Had A Bad Day Again
by ChaosCat
Summary: Being kidnapped is just the beginning of yet another bad day for Rogue. Add nefarious plots, confusing conspiracies, hectic life at the Institute, and one smooth talking Cajun. What's a southern gal to do? Featuring: RogueRemy, Kitty, Pyro, Kurt
1. Talk A Walk

_So bad at authors notes. Always come off being, well, idiotic. Not entirely surprising. But let us plunge ahead, yes? My first EVO fic. Squeee. Be gentle, but I do enjoy criticism. So anything you have to say would be just peachy. I would like to say that, well, I haven't read too many EVO fics out there, so I hope I am not writing a fic that is identical to someone elses. If I am, I'll apologize in advance. Not wanting to tread upon anyone's toes. Hopefully, I will have enough twists to make this dissimilar to any other superb EVO fics out there. Cross our fingers, yes? _

_Well, personally, am a Rogue/Remy fanatic. So don't be surprised if certain things seem to be moving in that direction. Will try to get lots of the other characters in here as well, but most chapters will probably be in Rogue's perspective. She is just so much fun to write._

----- 

1/?  
Another Bad Day  
ChaosCat  
23 June 2003

----- 

Rogue was moping.

Not that this was anything out of the ordinary for the X-Men's resident Goth, but nevertheless, tonight she seemed to be redefining the art. She'd not ventured out of her room since dinner, when she'd left the table and stormed out of the dining room. Kitty had been up earlier, trying to talk to her, but Rogue had snapped at her younger roommate, forcing the girl to flee downstairs instead of facing the sulking beast that was Rogue.

Probably shouldn't have been so harsh, she thought, staring at paper on her lap as guilt seeped into her conscience. The guilt only made her more irritable.

Irritated at herself. Irritated at everyone at the Institute. Hell, irritated at life in general. And especially at anything that even resembled fate, or any force remotely like it at work in the Universe at large. In short, Rogue had had a bad day.

It wasn't enough that she had been born a mutant. A mutant who just happened to possess the ability to absorb other people's thoughts, memories, and in the case of other mutants, their powers, just by touch. It wasn't enough that this unwanted ability kept her from being able to touch anyone. Ever. Or even hope to have a normal life.

It wasn't enough that the only guy she'd even remotely shown interest in, one Scott Summers, was hopelessly infatuated with the most perfect girl in the world, telepath and telekinetic Jean Grey. A person who Rogue knew she couldn't dream of competing with.

And it wasn't enough that her own "mother", shaper shifter and sociopath known as Mystique, had posed as a high school student in order to befriend Rogue, only if in yet another attempt to manipulate her.

All these things Rogue could handle. After all, she'd been handling them, hadn't she? For the most part anyway. Excluding the incident where she'd lost control of all the psyches she'd absorbed and landed herself in the Med Lab for two weeks.

Still, the fact remained that far was not content with the absurdity of Rogue's life. And all the mayhem that had been thrown at her from every possible angle. No, Fate was a royal bitch.

Rogue had gotten a C on her French paper. Not an ordinary C, oh no, but a C-. The auburn haired girl frowned, staring at the red streaked paper in front of her. The teacher certainly hadn't spared any ink. That was for sure.

It just wasn't fair! She'd been breezing through French before – before the entire city of Bayville had been alerted to the presence of mutants in their terribly normal community. Then, everything had changed. Not that it had bothered Rogue much at first, considering her official status as outcast extraordinaire with the students. But now the teachers were discriminating against her as well

All of them, she amended ruefully. No one had escaped the resentment at school completely, even Miss Perfect. Rogue had noticed the absence of several trophies from the school display. Even though Rogue would never admit it to anyone, she knew that Jean had those trophies. It just wasn't fair. Of course, in Rogue's experience, life was never fair. That was just how things went. She hadn't been hurt or shocked by the changes at school after they had been exposed like some of the others at the Institute had been, only frustrated.

"Rogue!" There was a pounding on the door accompanying the shout.

Speaking of frustration.

"Would you turn your stereo down?" Jean's plaintive voice bellowed through the door. "Some of us are trying to study!"

Rogue frowned, glancing over at her stereo. It wasn't even turned up all the way. Couldn't a person listen to music in peace?

"No." She responded, feeling particularly contrary at the moment.

"Rogue?" Jean called again, obviously not having heard her. "Can you hear me?"

The Goth rolled her eyes. Maybe if she ignored her long enough, the telepath would take the hint and go away. She went back to her brooding, the soothing music of The Deftones a nice background noise for her mood. She went back to her brooding.

It wasn't as if Jean would come into her room anyway. Rogue could count the times the redhead had done so on one hand. And she especially wouldn't do so now. The entire Institute had been walking on pins and needles since the incident the night of the concert, when she'd accidentally absorbed Risty. No, it was been Mystique all along, hadn't it? Rogue pushed those thoughts aside, along with the feeling of betrayal that welled up within her, with tired impatience. Still, it was no reason for everyone to treat her like she had the plague. Even more than they usually did.

She'd walk into a room, and the conversation would come to a screeching halt. It was infuriating, but not as bad as how they acted if anyone brought up anything remotely related to Mystique. It was as if sacrilege had been spoken. It was driving her insane. At least the Professor and the instructors weren't acting the same way. Logan, Hank, and Ororo acted as if they'd forgotten about the incident, which was a relief.

Of course, it was this little matter that had set Rogue off at dinner. Someone, probably one of the New Mutants, had commented on Mystique, and the coloring of her skin. The entire table of students fell silent, turning to look at the unfortunate speaker. Logan had gone back to his steak with little more than a raised eyebrow. The collective gaze had then flitted first to Kurt, and then fixed itself upon Rogue.

She'd been slightly less than congenial about the matter. Gritting her teeth, her jaw set, she waited. She'd already been slightly ticked off at the grade on her paper. This was not helping.

In some detached part of her mind, she began making a list of her options: A) Ignore it, and finish her food, which was edible, since it wasn't Kitty's night to make dinner, B) Say something witty, which she wasn't so great at, or C) Storm out, leaving nothing resolved.

And Rogue, being Rogue, choose the illustrious C. And that was exactly what she did.

And that had left her up in her room, where she had been for the past two hours, listening to music and staring at the dreaded French paper, a sure sign that things were not about to look up. 

At least Jean had gone away now, realizing that the volume probably wasn't going to be altered anytime soon. One less thing to worry about. Now, if only there were something to do about her French teacher. To fix her grade before she bombed yet another exam. Yeah right, that would happen, just after Scott stopped following Lean around with puppy dog eyes. That was a nice fantasy, but not a very realistic one.

Rogue flopped backwards on her bed, eyes closed. Yeah, life just wasn't fair. Nor would be magically begin to be anytime soon. All she wanted at the moment was to sit here and mope, not matter how childish that might seem.

BAMPH!

"Umm, Vogue? Jean vants to know if you vill turn the music down."

There was no mistaking the presence, even without the accent or the rather pugent scent of sulfur hovering in the air. Rogue's green eyes snapped open, and she jerked her head up to see a rather nervous fuzzy blue demon standing in the middle of her room, tail lashing anxiously behind him. There was a hopeful smile on his face.

"Kurt!!"

***

Kitty Pryde bit her lower lip, staring at the spot where Kurt had disappeared just a few moments before. The only slightly muffled thumping of bass filtered through the ceiling. Yep, Rogue was in a bad mood. It wasn't really a big surprise to Kitty, who, as her roommate, had lived with Rogue in far worse moods. And considering Rogue's increasing tendency to withdraw lately. Not that she hadn't always been withdrawn, but since they'd discovered the truth about Risty, well, it had only gotten worse.

"You think she'll listen to him?" Amara asked at Kitty's left. There were both sitting on the couch, most of the other students scattered about the mansion's study.

"She's totally going to kick his ass!" Bobby Drake's cheeky reply received only a glare from Kitty.

"She won't," Scott responded tersely.

"He's just asking her to turn the music down," Jean chirped. "If the Professor were here, he'd ask the same. She's just feeling moody at the moment, she'll get over it."

"Yeah, but like, we are not the Professor." Kitty felt inclined to point out. "And he's not going to be back for a few hours."

"Why didn't Logan say anything?" Amara queried.

"Because he's disappeared, as usual." Scott frowned. It was no secret that he and their combat instructor didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things.

"She's totally going to kick his ass."

This time, Kitty, Jean, and Scott all turned to glare at Bobby. He only grinned. Amara suppressed a giggle. Scott looked as if he were about to say something when the thumping ceiling abruptly went still, causing all the students to look up.

"Well, that's a good sign." Scott remarked, breaking the silence.

BAMPH!

"Oh man, you guys!" Kurt Wagner had his usual appearance in a cloud of purplish smoke and stench of sulfur. Running a three fingered hand through his hair, he continued.

"Iz she mad or vhat?"

The sound of a door slamming upstairs punctuated his words.

"Kurt, what happened?" Kitty queried.

"Vell, I asked her about her stereo." The teleported shrugged.

"And?"

The sound of combat boots clumping down the staircase in the front hall was unmistakably from one very unhappy mutant. The noises lead to the group all poking their heads from the doorway in time to see a very disgruntled Rogue stalking across the foyer.

"Rogue?" Kitty venturied, knowing it was a bad idea even as the name left her tongue.

"Ah'm goin' out." The girl answered, not bothering to glance at the group still standing in the doorway as she grabbed her coat. "Alone."

Kitty caught a glance of Jean look back at the clock. Then the redhead spoke. "Isn't it a little late for that?"

Kitty winced, knowing Rogue would not take kindly to that, and she was not disappointed. The auburn haired mutant turned her head, glaring at the assembly crowding the doorway, each a bit to hesitant to approach Rogue in her current mood.

"Ah don't see how that is any of yo'r business!" She snapped back, throwing the front door open and stalking out.

"Rogue, wait-"

Kitty winced as Rogue slammed the door behind her, cutting off Scott's plea. Exchanging a look with Kurt, she put a hand on the dejected boy's shoulder. As usual, Kurt would probably end up blaming himself for this, when it was really just Rogue's temperament which had caused the outburst.

"Don't worry Kurt. She just needs like, a little time."

"She didn't kick his ass, bummer."

***

Having escaped the bundles of raging hormones, also known as teenagers, for the night, Logan relished in his few moments of peace and quiet. The Professor had left him behind in order to baby-sit the students while he and had attended some conference in Manchester. Enjoying his nightly cigar and still internally grumbling about his duty, Logan was almost surprised as he watched Rogue slam the front door in her wake.

In her hast, she hadn't spotted Logan, half hidden in the darkened area of the front porch. He had sprawled on one of the "cute" little chairs Ororo had insisted upon buying, saying they "opened the porch up" or some other nonsense. Logan had grunted that they were a waste of money, but personally, he had to admit they were comfortable.

"Where ya headed Stripes?"

His question obviously startled the girl. Logan could smell her agitation, mingled with fury as the girl almost tripped down the steps she had been stomping down determinedly just moments before.

She whirled around, emerald irises glittering in surprise, which she quickly masked with defiance.

"For ah walk." She snapped. "Why? Ya gonna tell me Ah can't even take ah walk anymore?"

Logan had to fight to keep the gruff expression in place. One thing could be said about Stripes, the kid had spunk. Very few of Xavier's students would mouth off to him. Rogue must be in a really bad mood. A walk to blow off her steam might not be such a bad idea. 'Sides, it wasn't that late.

"Nah." He shrugged lazily, chewing on the end of his cigar. "Just going to advice you to be back before Chuck gets home."

"Fahne." Rogue answered, turning back around. She hesitated a moment on the last step. "Logan?"

"Yeah, kid?" The gruff Canadian arched a brow at the uncertainty in her voice.

"Thanks." She finally answered before she started off.

Logan only grunted, watching her retreating figure.

***

She hadn't meant to wander too far from the Mansion, she realized as she passed beneath a streetlight, especially not this far. Walking down the sidewalk between rows of residential suburb homes, yards neatly trimmed and home to the majority of Bayville's populace, Rogue sighed. She'd been in such a foul mood, she hadn't even noticed how far from the Institute she'd wandered.

Rogue stopped in her tracks, watching the clouds flicker across the moon. The effect it caused was dramatic, interplay of shadow and light against the houses and foliage.

It was getting late, she knew, and her feet were beginning to hurt. Maybe going for a walk hadn't been such a great idea. But it had been a good way to blow off steam. She was feeling a good more civil now. Maybe it was time to go back to the Mansion and face the lecture from the Professor. He was sure to be home by the time she got back. Unless she miraculously developed the ability to teleport in the next ten minutes.

She turned, intent upon heading back home, when a flicker of movement caught her eye. She blinked. A stray dog, her mind tried to write it off. No, it had been something bigger. A person sized shape. It had disappeared behind a row of shrubs, whatever it had been. But who would be out this time of night anyway? Rogue frowned, a suspicion settling in her get. Was someone following her?

The bad thing about being paranoid was when you were right. She just knew something was following her now that the idea had popped into her brain. Purposefully, she began walking toward the tall shrubbery.

Probably Kurt. It wouldn't be surprising. Since she'd awakened in the Med Lab, Rogue could scarcely breathe without the teleporter tripping over her. Ever since he had discovered Mystique had adopted her, he'd been acting like they were long-lost family. It was almost true. And almost nice, Rogue admitted. But it wouldn't have surprised her in the slightest if he had followed her. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that it was him.

She stopped a few feet from the house.

"Kurt! Is that you?" She half-hissed, half-yelled at the shadows. No lights were on the house, but Rogue had no desire to wake up the neighborhood.

The shrubs rustled a bit in response. Rogue frowned.

"Ah though Ah told ya'll Ah wanted to be alone?"

Silence greeted her.

"Ya better answer me!"

"Sorry kid, but Kurt ain't here." The strange voice came from behind her. Startled, Rogue whirled to face the speaker, her defensive instincts kicking in at the harsh tone.

Something struck her in the back of the neck as she turned. Pain blossomed from the point, similar to that of a bee sting. Trap. Her brain screamed, but it was a bit too late for that. Just as the meager pain had fully registered in her sense, the edges of her vision blurred.

Definitely not good.

---

Well, that's it for this week, kids. Do tell me what ya think, if ya managed to read through the whole thing. I do love attention.

And the accents. . Must work on them, I know. Anyone have any advice? I know nothing about German. 


	2. Missing

_Well, I have returned, with the second character of this increasingly spastic bit of fic. I do love that word. It makes me happy. Know what else makes me happy? Reviews! Am positively squealing with glee over the fact that you wonderful people reviewed the first chapter of this! Will address those at the end of this chapter though ^.^ _

_Need to say a few things before I get this ball rollin' however. This chapter came out pretty quickly, but I honestly have no schedule for psoting. But will do the best I can. Sorry for the incredibly idiotic notes at the beginning of the first chapter. Will have to fix them soon. Must wonder where my brain goes at times like those. I blame the bout of Mono I seem to have been stricken with for the last few weeks. Anyway. _

_This fic takes place somewhere after the episode Self Posessed, and probably after Under Lock and Key as well. However, I will say there will be no Apocalypse in this fic. Why? Because he is hella big and he scares me. There will, however, be Romy-ness! (Unfortunatelly, not in this chapter. Chapter Three on the other hand. . . .) On that note, let's begin._

----- 

2/?  
Had A Bad Day Again  
ChaosCat  
25 June 2003

----- 

Mornings at the mansion were hectic, as usual. With the number of teenagers in the household, breakfast was always an interesting event. So interesting, in fact, that all members of the faculty of the Institute primarily avoided the ground floor of the Mansion at this time of the morning.

This particular morning was no exception. Racing into the kitchen, Bobby and Roberto had accidentally crashed into Jamie, who had promptly fractured into four duplicates. Three of those Jamie's were arguing with Sam over who got the last chocolate donut. Amara was shooting a very well accomplished glare-of-certain-death at Kurt, which was not without cause, considering that the teleporter had snatched her breakfast right out of the toaster. 

Scott and Jean swept into the kitchen.

"Jean, admit it." Scott sighed, holding the door open for her. "The hats look stupid."

" Jean Grey paused, shaking her head.

"How can you say that, Scott? They are a tradition. You cannot graduate without a cap. And they don't look stupid."

With graduation day at Bayville fast approaching, the topic of conversation for the two seniors at the Institute had been consistently drifting to the subject of the late. The two of them took their seats at kitchen table.

"They have golden tassels on them." Scott followed her into the kitchen, braced for the chaos undoubtedly in motion. He'd long ago given up any attempt to bring order to breakfast. The 'I'm the Leader' look just did not work effectively with hunger mutants. Logan and Ororo didn't even try anymore.

"What is wrong with golden tassels?"

"They're just tacky. And besides, they give us melon heads. Not exactly the picture you want to remember of the day you graduate high school, right?" He grinned, thoroughly enjoying the game. At least he had Jean's complete and undivided attention.

"So, you are saying I have a melon head? From a graduation cap?"

Scott's face fell.

"Well-No! I mean. . .that's not what I said. Well, not entirely anyway," Scott blabbed.

Jean, who had only moments before been attempting to suppress a giggle, had just gotten a good look at Kurt. He was currently perched on the kitchen counter, sticking his tongue out at Amara and munching on a pop-tart. She frowned, the cuteness of Scott's blushing babble now lost to her.

"Okay, you are right."

Scott blinked, then followed her line of vision.

Kurt, still gobbling down pop-tarts, had noticed he was now the subject of contentment. He gave Scott a jaunty salute, golden tassel bobbing. He was wearing a graduation cap, which meshed rather badly with the colour of his fur. Scott grinned, nodding back. Wait a second. Kurt was not graduating this year.

"Hey! Is that mine?!"

At that moment, Jamie chased Jamie under the table and out the door. Only in this house was such a thing possible. Jean just raised a brow. 

"What a zoo," she remarked fondly.

Scott, just returning to the table after having retrieved his hat from Kurt, glanced at her.

"What?"

She smiled at him.

"Oh, nothing."

"Hey guys." An anxious looking Kitty Pryde phased her upper body through the kitchen wall. "Have you like, seen Rogue this morning?"

Scott and Jean both answered negatively. Kurt, swallowing the last of Amara's pop-tart with gusto, shook his head.

"Why do you ask, Keety?"

"Yeah." Bobby remarked. "She's your roommate. Isn't she still upstairs?"

Kitty phased into the room, biting her lower lip. "Well, when I woke up this morning, she like, wasn't in her bed. And I totally didn't see her come in last night. And now, like, you guys haven't seen her this morning? At all?"

Jean and Scott exchanged one of those concerned-superior-team-member looks they did so well. Sure, Rogue occasionally stormed out in a huff or something or another, but she always came back. It wasn't like her to do something like that.

"Maybe she got up early?" Sam offered in his soft southern drawl.

"Rogue?" Bobby shook his head. "A morning person? You are kidding right?"

"Then vhere is she?" Kurt cut in, concern evident in his tone.

Kitty shrugged.

"I totally have no idea! Maybe we should ask the Professor?" The words had no sooner been spoken when the kitchen door was opened.

"That won't be necessary." Ororo Monroe stood in the doorway. "The Professor wishes to speak to you all before you leave for school."

***

"As most of you are aware, Rogue did not return to the Institute last night."

As he spoke, Professor Charles Xavier regarded his students carefully. They had all crowded into rather spacious office, awaiting his next words. Some still in pajamas, others dressed for a day of school. They were all still children, he acknowledged, looking over them, and yet, they were some of the most extraordinary children in the world.

Sitting at his desk, Xavier could see Ororo Monroe, weather goddess, seated demurely near the window. Logan, in contrast, was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed. Though his demeanor was gruff as always, the Canadian was exuding an aura of agitation that was difficult to ignore.

Student and faculty alike exuded concern, but Logan, Xavier knew, held himself partly to blame for the events which had transpired the previous night. Events that he was now going to relate to the students.

"When Storm and I returned from D.C., Logan informed us that Rogue had left in the hours prior. And also that she should have returned. Naturally, we were concerned, but the three of us agreed that it might be better to give her time, and to respect her need for privacy, as we try to do for each of our students.

"However, time passed, and she still did not return. It was only then that Logan was dispatched to find her. Logan, if you would please relay your findings?"

The Canadian gave a short nod before he spoke. 

"Followed 'er trail a few miles north into more populated area. Scent was fresh, but she ran into something. Not entirely sure what. But there were others. Signs of a scuffle. Bits of the road were, er, damaged. The trail splits. Majority headed North. But Rogue's headed South, toward the city. Lost it pretty soon though. Looks like they hightailed it out of there."

Before any of the students could comment, Xavier broke in.

"This leads us to believe that Rogue escaped, although Logan tells us she was not entirely alone. Her current whereabouts are, however, unknown to this at the moment, as is the identity of the person she is with." Xavier gestured to a small object sitting on his otherwise empty desk, metal gleaming wickedly in the light. "This was also discovered at the scene. It appears to be a dart of some sort, filled with an unknown tranquillizer. Dr. McCoy is currently analyzing it to determine the substance used and its origin."

"Professor! Ve've got to find her!" Kurt's tail lashed to and fro as he held out his hand.

"Like, now!" Kitty added in.

"I understand your concern, Kurt, Kitty. We are doing everything within our power to do just that."

"Professor, what about Cerebro?" Jean Grey quipped in. "Isn't it able to locate any specific mutant?"

Xavier nodded to his pupil. "This is true, Jean. But even with Cerebro, I was unable to find her current location. Or any trace of her."

"Is that possible?" One of the New Mutants gasped.

"There are a few possibilities as to the reason for this, Roberto. Rogue may be unconscious." Or dead. The second part of that clause remained unsaid, but a few were thinking it anyway. "Or, contrarily, something may be blocking it."

"Is that like, possible?" It was Kitty's turn to question.

"I am afraid so. Juggernaut, while wearing his helmet, is undetectable from Cerebro, as are several other mutants who possess special capabilities." Xavier steepled his fingers. "However, if Rogue were to use her powers, it greatly increase my chance of locating her psyche."

"So what do we do, Professor?" Scott asked, assuming the position of team leader without a thought.

"The only thing we can do, Scott." Xavier sighed. "We wait."

***

A few hours earlier:

The cellphone was answered after only a single ring. Quivering fingers groping for the correct button. Only one person was privy to this number, the employer who had contracted the team for this job.

"Sir." The man spoke immediately, thankful his voice was steady.

"Ah, Matthews." The voice on the other end was that of silk rustling. Or like dry scales. Snakes rubbing against each other. The analogy caused Matthews to frown. "I trust the operation went flawlessly, as promised."

It was not quite a question, the way his employer spoke. Matthews gulped.

"Not exactly, sir." He replied haltingly. "There were unforeseen complications."

"The X-Men?"

"No, sir."

"I see." There was a pause on the other end. "But you did acquire the targer?"

The boss was baiting him, Matthews realized. He was sweating in his combat gear, he realized as well. This was not going well.

"No sir, she escaped." Matthews blurted out, fear beginning to creep into him now. He had seen how his employer dealt with failure.

"Amazing."

"Sir?"

"Ten fully grown, well armed men allowed a girl. Little more than a CHILD. Escape from them?"

"I apologize, sir. But we did have her. She suspected nothing. We caught her off guard, and alone, just as you ordered. There was no way we could have foreseen this! She was immobilized. We tagged her easily. She put up no fight, went down smooth after the shot. But sir. She had help. We were not prepared." He was babbling now, and babbling was not good. His jaw snapped shut.

"Matthews."

"Sir?"

"You have two minutes to give me a satisfactory explanation before I terminate your employment, permanently." Matthews could imagine the serene expression of the boss. Matching the smooth, low tone his words were spoken in exactly. It was not reassuring.

He took a deep breath.

A little under two minutes later, he had stopped, listening to the silence on the other end apprehensively.

"Another mutant, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"But not one of Xaviers?"

"No, sir. The description matches none we were given for this mission."

"Does this mutant have a description?"

Matthews was quick to supply the information, blurting out all he could remember.

"Hmmm." The boss seemed intrigued. "How very amusing. How very amusing indeed."

Matthews said nothing.

"You have been granted a reprieve, Matthews. At least for now."

"Sir?"

"Do you know have their location, Matthews?"

"Yes, sir. Well, it was current as of two hours ago. The target had a better metabolism then we thought."

"It is to be expected. And?"

"New York City, sir." Matthews gulped.

"This could prove much more interesting than I had originally thought."

-----

_This chapter was a wee bit short. But the next one will be much longer. Hope that the chapter of nothing absolutely happening wasn't too boring for you all? But I thought we needed to see the folks at the Institute, so we all know they aren't standing idly by. Not too sure on the dialogue. Any suggestions/critique would be terribly helpful! _

_And, of course, it appears Rogue wasn't kidnapped? Or was she? So where is she? Well, I can promise you will find out in the next chapter. And the plot is lurking about the corner. Along with a bit of action. Chapter Three will be here within the week! _

_To Reviewers: _

_THANK YOU benjibear, Chaka, Liz, Bettie-chan, bluefuzzyelf, gambitgirl, Taineyah, and SailorSun1 for supporting me!!! _

_Ishandahalf --- I will try to be quick about writing! And I definitely agree on the Romyness! It makes me do a fangirl squeal! _

_infinity-x-forever --- Thanks for catching my goofs! ^.^ Will definitely try to do better next time. _

_AngieX --- Totally not intentionally ripping off any fics. But like I said, there probably are some similar stories out there. Hopefully, this one will have a few unique twists in it. And I am a horrid speller/grammar person. Will try to work on that, though. Thanks for letting me know. _

_Makura Koneko --- Cliffhangers are evil, aren't they? Ya just wanna strangle somebody over them! But they are soo much fun to write! ^.^ Cannot help it, must be a wee bit too evil myself at times. _

_Carla --- Thanks for accent advice. I am probably going to stick with your suggestion. ^.^ I just hope I didn't butcher them all too badly? Just cannot help from doing Rogue's though. It is so darn cute! _

_Girl number 1 --- Wow! Your review was so enthusiastic. It's definitely appreciated. Thanks so much for your support on my story. And your speculations! But you are right, Rogue is kick ass._


	3. Cajuns are Insane

_Ah, my comic book urges have been satiated for at least another couple of weeks, if only because the newest Hopeless Savages mini-series has begun. If you are a comic book fan (hell, if you are an –anything- remotely awesome) and just happen to like punk music, you should be reading some Hopeless Savages. One of the best non-superhero books I've ever read. ^.^ Not counting Maus, of course. But do not get me started on a comic book rant. Else I may just go on forever. _

_Well, here is Chapter Three. We're back to Rogue, and a wee bit of action in there to make things more interesting. Hope everyone enjoys it. This chapter was a lot of fun to write, for obvious reasons. I really shouldn't have made it so long though. These chapters just get longer and longer. Oh well. Should be enough to tide ya'all over for a week or so, right? But no more comments from me until after the chapter! Toodles._

----- 

3/?  
Had A Bad Day Again  
ChaosCat  
29 June 2003 

----- 

Rogue awoke to a steady pounding in her head, like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the back of her neck. It was worse than one of Logan's training sessions. She let out a groan, lashes fluttering as she found back the darkness threatening to overtake her once more. As her emerald orbs fought to bring the world into focus, she found herself gazing into the most unusual irises she'd ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat, her headache momentarily forgotten.

Crimson irises rimmed in ebony. No hint of white evident in those ebony depths. Eyes of a demon, the thought fluttered across her mind before she could squash it. And yet, it was apt for these orbs. So unusual. And such vaguely familiar ones at that.

"Ah, la beauté de sommeil se réveille. » A rich, masculine chuckle accompanying those words brought Rogue back to her senses. As did the close proximity of this other person. 

A loner by necessity if not nature, Rogue never reacted well to close conditions with others. It was her nature to protect her own psyche, as well as the well-being of the other person. Thus, it was her responsibility to stay away, for fear of hurting anyone else. In this case, she did what came natural : balled up her fist and sucker punched the guy. Logan, with all his defense training lectures, would have been proud had he been there to see Rogue's blow topple the man in a flurry of trench coat and auburn hair. 

Rogue jerked herself up from her prone position, becoming aware of her surroundings almost instantly. She was on a couch, that odd detail scarcely registering as they second wave of headache hit her, bringing vertigo along for the ride. The room swayed as her gaze searched it. An apartment, by the look of it. Sparsely yet tastefully decorated. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting the room in shadows. Loft-styled, with spacious living room and huge windows letting in the view of the city. City? 

How the hell did she end up in the city? Assuming this was New York at all. Or here for that matter ? Where was here ? And where were the other X-Men ? And why did her head feel like a jackhammer was at work somewhere within her mind ? 

She put one gloved hand to her head, wincing. It really hurt. 

« Mon Dieu! » An amused voice drew her attention. « De femme really pack a punch ! » 

« You ! » She hissed, getting her first good look at her. . . attacker ? Captor ? She wasn't quite sure how to classify him just yet. 

The man stood before her, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His tall, lithe frame was currently positioned between her and the door, not that she could really run at the moment. Unruly auburn hair framed a chiseled face. Those unusual eyes stared out at her from that handsome visage. Clad in a black turtleneck and relaxed black pants covered by a brown trench coat, he looked ever the suave, self-assured charmer. He could only be a few years older than her, but somehow he exuded an air of experience and maturity. And charm. 

« Ah, de chere remember Gambit ? » She didn't miss the cocky note in the Cajun's voice. 

His accent was thick, the French interwoven in his speech. And it gave his origins away just as quickly. Especially to Rogue, who was a Southern herself, knew what a real New Orleans's accent sounded like. Gambit. She caught the name and stored it for future reference. 

« Swamp Rat ! » She spat out. « Ah remember ya all right. Ya nearly blew mah hand off ! » 

How could she forget ? He was one of Magneto's Acolytes. The cocky little Cajun with the exploding cards. And demon eyes. He'd nearly had her the first time they met, handing her one of those charged cards of his. Part of it was her fault, she had to admit, for staring at him like some little lost puppy. But there had been something so compelling at him. That smile. 

She pulled a disgusted face. She was the Rogue, right ? She didn't act like that, especially not over some cocky boy. She didn't get stupid little crushes, especially not after what had happened with Scott. Especially not with one of the enemy. Her head hurt too much to think about this right now. 

« Swamp Rat ? » His brows came together. He looked almost hurt by her insult. « Dat was business. I'd much preferred to be called Remy, chere. Remy Lebeau de name. Sounds much nicer than 'swamp' rat, non ? » 

« Business ? Then what do you call this ? » She snapped, glaring up at him. 

« Pleasure ? » That same sexy grin was on his face. Only right now, she was in too much of a bad mood to appreciate it. 

« What the hell do you want ? » She demanded, becoming increasingly confused by his friendly attitude. 

He wasn't acting like one of Magneto's goons. In fact, he'd been nothing but nice to her since she'd been here. And 'nice' wasn't in Rogue's vocabulary. He wanted something. She was sure of it. 

« Remy not want anything, chere. » He grinned. « 'Cept maybe a t'ank you for saving your life, eh ? » 

« Saving mah life ? » Rogue blinked. Her head pounded so that she almost stumbled. The pain was enough to force her to sit back on the couch. 

« Oui. » Remy took a step in her direction, but paused as Rogue held up a hand to ward him off. The Cajun only grinned, doing his best to look harmless. She was not fooled. « I t'ink maybe Rogue should lie down ? Dat dart knocked you out pretty good. » 

« I don't think so. » She refused, watching Gambit warily, even through the man doing anything more suspicious than breathing at the moment. « What dart ? » 

It came back to her in snatches. Bits of memory floating around in her brain. Leaving the Mansion. Alone. The walk. She'd been ambushed. The realization came as she dropped her head into her hands, focusing on the thread of memory which perhaps held memories. But they were all fuzzy, possibly due to the fact that she'd been shot with something. The dart that Cajun spoke of ? 

Her fingers went to the back of her neck, the source of the throbbing pain, gently probing the area. Sure enough, there was a tender, slightly swollen area of flesh. She winced when her gloved fingers came in contact with it. 

She'd turned. Only to realized she really wasn't alone. There'd been figures, dressed in black. Then what had happened ? She remembered falling, the urgency deep seated to stand, to fight. Only her legs weren't working, were they ? She'd been given some tranquillizer. 

Combat gear. Weapons. Masked faces tumbled into her mind. Everything had been terribly fuzzy at that point. Well, that made sense, she thought with a scowl. Something exploded. A flash of light, then everything had gone black. She'd passed out. Rogue refused to think of it as fainting, as only completely idiotic women in those romance novels Kitty read (aloud at times, when the mood struck her) fainted. 

So Gambit had rescued her. Or at least, he claimed to have. And now she was her. With the enemy. 

« Shit. » 

« Here. » 

A plastic cup was shoved into her hand, drawing her out of her thoughts. She blinked at the clear contents before peering over at the lanky acolyte now lounging on the couch next to her. 

« Drink de water, Chere, » he encouraged. « Help to clear your head. » 

Rogue glared at him, much to his apparent amusement. She did, however, raise the cup to her lips. 

« Don't worry, I didn't poison it. » 

She paused, giving his words a second of serious thought before seeing the mischevious grin settle onto his features. She scowled, then took a gulp of water to sooth her parched throat. Her emerald gaze was hard as she turned it upon Gambit. 

« Why ? » 

Remy LeBeau was a man who staked his life on wagers. The particulars were unique, but the results always the same. He was Jean Luc's favorite son. The Prince of Thieves. What was life without risk ? Perhaps there was nothing but the risk. The adrenaline pumping moment when it came down to the wire. All or nothing. It was just those situations which made life worth living. 

This was a wager in itself. Currently employed by Magneto, self-proclaimed Master of Magnetism and god among mutants, Gambit had brought a mutant home. Not just any mutant, one of the X-Men. He knew who she was, the Rogue, and he knew of her powers as well. And perhaps that was why he didn't move away, distance himself from her poisonous skin. 

He regarded her from his lounging position upon the couch. Emerald eyes sparkling with defiance. Her face hidden beneath layers of make-up. Sleep trousled auburn hair with that streak of white. Unique. Like her. She was the untouchable one. The loner. The outcast. That alone made the game worthwhile. She was untouchable, a challenge like no other he had faced. 

Remy'd been intrigued with her when they had first met. The way their eyes had held as he'd given her the card. But this, this was an importunity to much to pass up. 

He grinned at her, flashing perfect white teeth. 

« Remy find himself in de area. Can never turn down a belle femme in distress. » He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. « 'Specially not one as beautiful as you, Chere. » 

« That's awfully convenient, ain't it, Swamp Rat ? » She drawled back. « Ya just happened by in the nick of time ? » 

« Oui. Good thing Gambit did, eh ? After all, you did go out all by yourself at night. » 

« So ? » 

« So, just saying dat's a bit suspicious. Just wondering what you be doing out der ? » 

« None of your damn business. » 

« Of course not, Chere. Remy just curious. » 

« So curious you decided to rescue me ? » 

« Oui, Chere. » He was enjoying this immensely. Watching her especially. The way her eyes flashed as she gave an angry retort. The downturn of her painted lips. 

« Ah don't buy it. And mah name ain't Chere. » 

« Yes, I'm well aware of dat. I also know you're gonna be suspicious of anything I say. Il est juste votre nature. » He shrugged. « But it's the truth. Remy was doing a job for his employer- » 

« Ya mean Magneto. » Rogue spat out the name. 

« Oui. » Remy nodded. « And when I see a belle femme in trouble, what choice do I have ? » 

« So you know nothin' 'bout any men in black comin' afta me ? » 

« Non. Don't you know ? » Gambit was only faintly surprised to discover she was not aware of the identity of her attackers. 

« No clue. » She looked perplexed, chewing at her bottom lip for a moment. Though her eyes still watched him suspiciously. She didn't trust him. He didn't blame her, although it was only a matter of time before her won her over. No woman could resist the charms of Remy LeBeau. 

« Very dangerous for you, Chere. Perhaps you need protection ? » 

« Not from the lahkes of you, » she shot back venomously. 

"You wound me."

"Ah only wish." She turned away from him, looking over the apartment. "What's this place supposed ta be, your base?"

"Non, this be Remy's home. You like?" He tilted his head to the side, regarding her profile.

Her only response was a little snort. 

"What sort of job?"

"Ah," he responded vaguely. "Just a bit of this and dat."

She turned back to him. The suspicion was still there, but there was also a flicker of curiosity lurking beneath that cold façade. Remy smiled. It was exactly as he'd planned.

"Which is?"

"I'm a t'ief, Chere." He announced, just a twinge of pride in his voice. He watched her close, reading the subtle art of her body language. The corners of her lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Not just any t'ief, Gambit de best."

"Oh really?"

"Oui. Don't ya believe me, Chere?"

"Mah name ain't Chere, Swamp Rat," she shot back at him. "It's Rogue."

"I know that, Chere." He chuckled. "But, I hadn't been properly introduced."

Without giving her time to protest, or pull away, the Cajun plucked her hand from her lap and brought it to his lips. She gaped at him.

Those crimson eyes never left her face. He was insane. That infuriating Cajun was absolutely insane! She was in absolute shock for a moment, her head pounding in her chest, blood rushing to her ears. She jerked her hand back, involuntarily scooting her entire body away from him. Her face felt hot. Oh gawd! She wasn't blushing, was she? Rogue did not blush.

Gambit, on the other hand, seemed amused.

"Easy," he said soothingly. "I'm not gonna bite."

"It's not you Ah'm worried about, Swamp Rat."

No, she was worried about having yet another person's memories in her head. The possibility of perhaps killing another person. The thought of the charming Cajun (and even Rogue had to admit, if only to herself, that he was charming) hurting her hadn't crossed her mind in that instant.

"I'm not scared, Chere." He gave her a rakish grin. "Remy knows what y'or powers are."

That fact that he knew didn't come as any great shock to her. After all, Magneto was aware of her mutation and it made sense that he'd keep his lackeys informed. It was the fact that he'd known and willingly chosen to touch her. He'd saved her from, erm, something, and brought her here. And he'd been relatively nice to her. Most people, upon discovering the poisonous nature of her skin, would back off immediately. Distance themselves from her. Gambit hadn't shown that distaste. That initial flinch at the mere possibility of touching her. But then, he was a cocky character, and a bit too charming for her tastes.

She didn't have time to play these games. Especially not when she wasn't even sure why some random thugs had gone after her the night before. Maybe Logan or the Professor would know something.

Rogue gasped, shooting to her feet in an instant, the vertigo forgotten. The professor! How could she have forgotten?

"How long was Ah out?" She demanded, hands on her hips.

Gambit shrugged, propping his legs up on the table.

"Few hours, mebbe." He estimated. "Missed sunrise."

Rogue groaned.

"Oh, the Professor is gonna kill me! And Logan, oh Gawd! Ah am so screwed!"

"Dat could be a problem."

"Could be?" Rogue whirled around to glare at him, her hands poised on her hips. Emerald eyes blazed with fury. She was fully prepared to unleash that fury upon him only to discover his attention was no longer upon her.

"Shhh, Chere." He rose in a fluid motion.

"Wha-" Rogue's outburst was effectively silenced by Remy placed two gloved fingers on her lips. She blinked. What the hell did he think he was doing?

"We're about to be getting' some company." He grinned at her, pulling a card from his pocket with a practiced flick of his wrist.

***

"I hope she's alright." Kitty sighed forlornly, clutching her books to her chest as she continued trudging down the hall.

"Hey, this is Rogue we're talking about." Kurt tried to cheer her up, putting an arm around her. "If anyone can take care of themselves, it's my sister. Without a doubt."

The two paused next to Kurt's locker. Even though his voice was cheerful, Kitty could tell that the fuzzy elf was just as worried as she was about their friend. She did consider Rogue a friend, whether or not Rogue wanted it. Of course, Rogue was just a friend that was a little hard to deal with at times. She placed her fingertips over his hand and squeezed gently, a silent show of appreciation.

"I know you're right Kurt." She gave him a half-hearted smile.

"I only wish we could do something, instead of being stuck here!" He gestured to the school around them. Students went on with their business, heading to and from classes in the general uproar. "I feel so. . ."

"Useless?"

Both students turned to see Jean standing there, for once without her entourage of giggling blondes and cheerleaders. The redhead smiled at the two of them wryly.

"I feel the same way."

Kurt's shoulders slumped. Yeah, but it wasn't her sister that had gone missing. No matter how much Rogue protested, Kurt was not about to be deterred. They were family now.

~X-Men! Assemble at the Mansion immediately. Cerebro has located Rogue.~

The presence of Charles Xavier filled their minds for just a moment, the announcement coinciding with the bell signaling the beginning of last period. The three of them looked at each other, and in the next few minutes, several young mutants scrambled to make their excuses from class. Those that bothered to do so at all.

***

As the man lost consciousness, Rogue dropped him to the floor, momentarily overwhelmed by a fresh wave of memories that were not her own. Unfortunately, none of the information in the man (James, his name was James, she amended, although she'd never seen him before she'd ripped the mask from his face) was prevalent to her. Or why there were suddenly men with guns charging through the apartment.

Just as Gambit had predicted, they'd soon had unwelcome company in the form of the heavily armed men. The Cajun had pushed her back down the hallway into one of the smaller rooms and told her to behave herself, much to her annoyance. He'd then, of course, run off to play with their new friends.

She'd heard several things explode in the last few minutes, accompanied by much cursing. She wasn't about to be left out of the fun, as she'd just proved by rendering three of them incapacitated. They'd burst into the room just moments before, but hadn't counted on her readiness to fight them. Two down from just her combat skills, and the third by just a touch. She'd been hoping to find out who had sent them. Unfortunately, it had been a wasted effort. His memories were worthless. He'd been more worried about paying for his new car than the mission.

Rogue plucked his gun up from the floor. She frowned, listening as something exploded from the living room. She expertly checked the newly acquired weapon. She'd never had training with weapons before, but somehow, the weapon felt right in her hands. Her fingers moving deftly over the metal surface of the gun, caressing it. It was loaded with six darts. The same kind they'd hit her with earlier. She knew little about the substance, but enough to know that it was powerful enough to knock a man flat in less than a minute.

She resolutely headed back down the hall to the living room. A new sound caught her attention, a low, steady hissing. She recognized it, or rather, the part of James that she had absorbed did.

The living room was filled with a thick, noxious smelling gas. It was also completely wrecked, furniture shattered and unconscious black garbed figures strewn about. She coughed, bringing up a sleeved arm to cover her nose from the fumes and crouched low to the ground. Gambit was nowhere to be seen, which did not surprise her. Had he left her there in favor of saving his own skin? Rotten Cajun.

The enemy, on the other hand, had not left.

She caught glimpses of them through the gas. Raising the gun, she took careful aim. Her arm was steady, training she'd never had flowing through her. It was an odd experience, just like anytime she'd used the skills of another. Squeezing the trigger, she watched her target drop to the ground bonelessly. Her dark lips twisted upwards into a pleased smile, only to fall as heads turned in her direction.

"Oh shit."

A hand grabbed her arm, yanking her back into the smoke. She was about to jerk away when the air exploded with gunshots. They were shooting at her now, she realized, as she was half-dragged, half-stumbled away.

"Dat be an understatement." The Cajun chuckled. "I think dey done playing with us now."

Rogue didn't reply, she was too busy trying not to be shot. Thankfully, the gas was just as much of a hazard to them as to their opponents, who couldn't see in it either.

"Brace yourself, chere." Gambit warned her as he yanked Rogue clear off her feet, bridal style. "Time to make an exit."

Rogue would have asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, but discovered it quickly enough on her own. He carried her weight effortlessly, gliding through the main room, and quickly running out of space. He leapt, rolled his shoulder in, and slammed it through the big bay window. It shattered spectacularly, showering everything in glass. The sunlight was blinding for a moment.

Then they were plummeting to the ground, forty feet below at an alarming speed, the sounds of cursing flitting behind them. Rogue found she didn't have the breath to scream.

Their landing was in a tall group of hedges that bordered the street. At least Gambit's was. He landed on his back, Rogue landing on top of him, the side of her face against his chest. She glared up at him through a curtain of white-streaked auburn hair.

"That was fun, non?" He grinned, picking a bit of twig from her hair.

She frowned, but before he had given her a chance to respond, he had them both on their feet. They were off running again, this time pushing their way past curious on-lookers who were gaping on the sidewalk. Rogue glanced behind her to see a masked face watching them leave from the shattered window four stories above the ground The gun was gone. They didn't seem to want to make a scene on a busy street. They'd be after them soon enough. She concentrated on running.

"How did they find us?"

"Mebbe they follow us? Mebbe they just good. Or mebbe, they got a tracker."

"That doesn't inspire much confidence in me."

"Oui."

And they rounded the corner.

"Now for the get away."

"How do you suggest that?" She huffed.

This was insane, she found herself thinking. Hadn't yesterday been almost normal? As normal as things got when you were a mutant, and part of the X-Men. Being chased by masked men and stuck with a crazy Cajun who was far too charming for his own good was not normal.

Gambit stopped suddenly, Rogue right behind him. She didn't have to ask why they stopped. Parked at the curb was a motorcycle. Rogue, who knew a little about bikes from Logan, placed it as one of the more pricey models.

"Hop on, Chere." Gambit ordered.

"This yours?"

"For now."

"That's reassuring coming from a thief."

"How did you think Remy got you here? He not going to carry you around."

He wasn't serious, was he? After all, he was an acolyte. She was an X-Man. Rogue looked up at him. He was already sitting on the bike, the motor revving. Gambit looked over at her, raising one of those eyebrows as he gave a shrug.

She had no other options. She read it in his crimson eyes. Without giving pause to think about it, Rogue slide on the bike behind him. She didn't have a choice.

She'd no more than gotten seated before the bike kicked off the curb, forcing her to wrap her arms around his waist in order to stay on.

"Bastard."

She knew he heard her over the wind, but he made no reply. They sped off, disappearing into the New York City traffic.

---

_Well, that was fun, right? This chapter really didn't answer any questions. But all will be revealed in good time. Honest. Hope the action-ish part of this wasn't too crappy. Sometimes I really think I cannot write fight scenes. Also apologize for my horrid grammar, and my horrid French. Any mistakes in there I take full responsibility for. _

_I think I could write Rogue/Remy dialogue forever, however. They just have a mind of their own when I am writing them. I want something to happen, and they are just doing their own thing. Honestly, don't these characters ever listen to the authoress? However, they just aren't in mushy lovey goodness yet. But both are definitely intrigued by the other. Hope that came across in my writing. I hope everyone was in character. Someone please let me know if I'm horribly off-base here._

_Personally, I really don't like Jean Grey. Just thought I'd get that out of the way. But, I will refrain from bashing her during the course of this fic, because well, she really isn't a bitch. Just incredibly close to perfect in every way. That does not mean that she might not be getting an ass beating later in this fic. But I will say no more on that subject. _

_Sending my thanks out to Chaka, Yumiko, Taineyah, Catt, bunny angel, beth (who calls them x-women, and makes me giggle), Makura Koneko (who is holding me to Romyness which I will deliver! eventually), and problem?. _

_Ishandahalf – Yay! You did the fangirl squeal! Hope this chapter was squeal-worthy as well, else I might have to hide behind my keyboard else suffer your wraith! Don't worry, my ROMY obsessive ness knows no bounds these days. I ooze over them in the comics too. ^.^ _

_Girl Number 1 – Don't we all hate Duncan? I don't see him as a villain though. Although that WOULD make a rather funny fanfic. "BOW TO MY EVIL JOCK POWERS!" Thanks for your ideas! Hope you like the new chapter. _

_See you folks in about a week. ^.^_


	4. New Friends

**Authors Notes:**_ Man, did this chapter give me some grief. These characters need to listen to me for once. But no, they gotta do their own thing! Especially Pyro. He's starting to grow on me, for some reason. I like the half-psychotic ones, apparently. I know he doesn't have much of a personality in EVO, but from what I have seen, the man enjoys his work far too much. But then, I'm pretty fond of fire myself. (I swear that setting the picnic table at work was sooo not my fault. Who knew it was that flammable?) Maybe it's a sign?   
Have been distracted recently by newest addition to the household. We have bunnies! Three of 'em we rescued from the lawnmower. They are just so cute! So, add in the pet squirrel, the hermit crab, the cats, chickens, and the dog, and we almost have a farm. Or a very odd petting zoo.  
There is some plot in this. Yay me. Things are progressing slowly. But honestly, I have an inkling of where this is going. Of course, that inkling could become rabid at any moment and wander off in it's own direction. It's been known to happen. Rabid inklings on the loose! Beware!_

--- 

**Nightcrawler:** "Blast! It's cold. You better have central heating laid in, mom...  
**Mystique:** "Good grief. I go to the length of finding a father for you who carried fur in his genes and still you moan!"   
_(X-calibur #3)_

--- 

4/?   
Had A Bad Day Again   
ChaosCat   
4 July 2003 

--- 

"There's no sign of 'em, Chuck." Wolverine, a man many would have preferred performing ritual suicide before facing in combat, was not pleased. "But she was here not that long ago. And not alone. Looks like they had some company, and they weren't the friendly type."

He stood amid the wreckage of what had been the interior of an apartment. At the moment, it resembled a trash heap. It had been completely trashed. The furniture lay in shambles about him. He kicked aside half of an end table with a growl.

The more experienced of Xavier's students had accompanied him on this mission. Kitty, Kurt, Scott, and Jean had refused to remain behind after the Professor had informed them he had been able to locate Rogue in New York City. Which left many questions unanswered as well. What was Rogue doing in the City? Was quickly followed by, where the hell was she now?

"Thank you, Wolverine." Professor Xavier's clipped, professional voice carried back over the comlink.

"Someone trashed the place really well, Professor." Cyclops reported, shifting through the rubble. 

It was a fruitless endeavor. There was nothing left behind worth investigation. Whoever had been there before them had cleaned the place out fairly well.

"Ja." Nightcrawler broke in. "Look at the walls!"

He pointed the aforementioned wall. It was riddled with holes, chunks of the wooden paneling blown out entirely in places.

"Pretty heavy firepower." Kurt turned to Wolverine, caught by a sudden thought. "Do you think Rogue was shot?"

"No smell of blood, kid." Wolverine shook his head. "I'd say they escaped."

"How can you be so sure?" Cyclops frowned at the certainty in Logan's voice.

"And like, who is they?" Kitty asked at the same time.

Wolverine stalked to the window, shattered chunks of glass crunching beneath his boots. He crossed his arms.

"Window's been broken from the inside. This is how they escaped." He informed them. "Had to be another person. This apartment doesn't belong to Rogue, now does it?"

With a quick BAMF! Kurt was perched on the window ledge, peering down.

"Man, that's a long drop!" He exclaimed. "How could she had walked away from that? And where -is- she?"

"Kurt!" Cyclops grabbed the blue elf by the tail and gave him a not so subtle jerk. It had its intended effect, as Kurt was pulled off the ledge. "Do you really want to be seen by half of New York?"

"Oh, sorry."

"Nice place." Kitty remarked, kicking at a chunk of wood. She wasn't entirely certain, but she thought it might have once been cabinet door.

"It used to be, from the look of things." Kurt remarked.

"Until someone redecorated." Cyclops added.

"The question is, whose place was it?" Logan growled, looking back at the window. He continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Had to be two of them. Rogue's not heavy enough to break that on her own."

"Someone could have been like, thrown through it," Kitty suggested.

"That's really a comforting thought, Kitty." Nightcrawler turned to shoot her a dirty look. She just shrugged.

"It was just an option, Kurt." She responded.

"No, Wolverine is right."

The four students turned as Jean Grey entered the room. Wolverine continued his examination of the window and surrounding area, still looking for any clue that might help the search.

"At least, from what I can gather from the minds of a few onlookers." The redhead began relaying the information she'd managed to glean from the memories of the crowd. "Apparently, two people did crash through the window just a few minutes before we arrived. One of them was Rogue. The other was a man wearing a trench coat. I couldn't get good look at him from any of their memories."

"Are they okay?" That was from Kitty.

"They landed in the hedge, apparently uninjured, and then ran off. That's the most I could find out."

"Well, the neighbors didn't seem very concerned, did they?"

"This is New York City." Kitty pointed out. "Like, this kind of thing happens every day. Don't you watch the news?"

"She has a point." Jean conceded.

"But where did they go?" Kurt's tail was flicking from side to side, a sure sign he was agitated.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps the Professor can help." Jean closed her eyes, opening her mind and gently reaching out with her fledgling telepathy towards Xavier. ~ Professor? ~

~Jean?~

Jean explained the situation to the Professor in a few short moments. It was liberating, speaking in such a manner. Words were, for the most part, less important than the feelings and images, which flowed between two telepaths.

~There is a chance, now that I have located her once. She could not have gotten far.~ The Professor mused. ~However, Rogue's mental shields are quite strong, when she is concentrating on them, especially for someone who possesses no telepathic talent. ~

~Why is that, Professor? ~

~ It is her mutation, Jean. She is constantly shielding herself from all those she has absorbed in the past. Many of the residual fragmented psyches remained trapped there; even long after the initial contact has faded. ~

~ I see. ~ Jean sounded thoughtful. ~ Do you have any hopes of finding her? ~

~ Perhaps, after all, I helped her create those shields. In the aftermath of the incident at the concert, we thought it best. ~ The Professor explained. ~ I may need your help. I would suggest moving to another location, however, and soon. The authorities are bound to make an appearance soon. I will be in touch. ~

Jean felt the Professor withdraw, and opened her own eyes to meet the eager gazes of her teammates. Even Logan was eying her. She knew the gruff older man was worried about Rogue. They all were.

"There is a chance."

***

"Incompetence." He dropped the phone back on the cradle and brought his fingers together, folding his hands atop a stack of files on his desk. "Complete and utter incompetence."

"What did you expect?" A woman stepped from the shadows of his office, a smirk playing on her lips. "They are only human, after all."

"Indeed." He responded thoughtfully.

She walked across the office, the sway of her hips almost mesmerizing. Her hair, the colour reminiscent of a dark, rich wine, framed her face and hung in a thick curtain down her back. The skirt was short, the jacket long. And the tanned legs beneath even longer. He had, undoubtedly seen it all before, and gave her no more than a passing glance as she crossed his field of vision.

"They failed to retrieve a single girl." There was no agitation in his tone, only casual indifference.

"Twice." She added pertly, seating herself across the desk from him. Her legs crossed. "In the span of 24 hours."

"You are enjoying your new host." It was not a question, coming from him.

"She resists me still." The woman replied. Her voice carried a heavy British enunciation. "And yet with increasing feebleness. Her powers are vast, however. The telepathy is most helpful. I am grateful you found her, Doctor."

He only nodded, his gaze traveling to the files on his desk. The topmost one was open, its contents neatly spread. She watched him for a moment, the silence broadening between them. She knew he would speak when he was ready, and not a moment before. He was the boss. She tossed her head, revealing a flash of the flawless skin of her neck, and the black choker there, marked by the ivory emblem of a woman's profile. 

"Failure is not tolerated."

"You wish me to handle them?" There was an eagerness in her voice which had been previously absent. She shifted in her seat, uncrossing her legs.

"Of course." He answered. "Discreetly, if possible."

"Always." She purred.

"Then we will see to the other matter."

"The girl?"

"Yes."

The woman frowned, folding her arms across her chest. She slid just a centimeter lower in her chair, eying the open file on his desk. The pages of text themselves were unreadable from this angle, but the photographs were clearly visible. Several of them were snapshots of the girl in question.

"Why expend the effort for her, Doctor?" She inquired, her tone carefully bland. "For just a single mutant."

The Doctor raised a brow at his subordinate, snapping the manila file folder closed, the contents tucked neatly inside.

"Are you questioning my decisions now?" The threat was palpable, even if his tone was politely bland. She could feel it thrumming below the surface.

"Of course not."

He stood, and she did the same.

"I expect this matter to be resolved within the week."

She knew what he was speaking of. The shift in conversation was not a surprise. She only tipped her head in agreement, letting that cascade of mauve tresses fall forward over her shoulder. A smile settled upon her lips once more. This assignment promised to be most entertaining.

"Now, I have a press conference to prepare for." He scooped the stack of files from his desk and began to stride for the door. She followed behind him obediently.

***

"Gambit home."

The tall Cajun announced their presence by throwing the door open, revealing the interior of the penthouse office suites. Rogue's eyes widened at the swanky surroundings. She lived in a mansion, but expensive things tended to get broken with the X-men around. Especially the younger students.

When Gambit had led her to the top floor of the building, Rogue hadn't known what to expect. This was certainly not on the list. Posh furniture, artfully placed, decorated the main office space sparingly. A large chandelier, a centerpiece for the expansive room, lit the room. There were two hallways that branched off in opposite directions, their destinations unknown to the young X-Man. The classy surroundings were the only reason Rogue was surprised. They weren't exactly alone.

"Ya know Remy, I think it's against the rules to be bring a Sheila to the base. Remember what happened last time?"

The first comment came from a casually dressed man with bright blonde hair, currently perched on the couch in front of the big screen TV. He was eying them both with curiosity.

"But Remy not going to keep her." The Cajun grinned. "Unless, of course, she wants to be kept."

Gambit winked at Rogue, which caused her to frown sharply and distance herself from him. She hadn't realized it, but she'd been practically attached to his side. How embarrassing. Her movement caused the man on the couch to laugh uproariously.

"She doesn't think much of your charm, does she mate?"

The blonde apparently thought the scene was entirely to amusing. He was Australian, given the accent. Dressed in a pair of frayed khaki shorts and an old band tee shirt, he didn't look intimidating. But he was somewhat familiar; she just couldn't place him at the moment. Not unexpected, considering how her day had begun. And was continuing to be. 

He bounded from his seat, much akin to a jackrabbit, and in a moment was standing before the two of them.

"St. John Allerdyce." He introduced himself cordially. "At yer service, luv."

"Be careful, chere." Gambit smirked as he spoke softly, but just loudly enough for St. John to hear. "He's just a little crazy."

"Who? Me? Shouldn't be spreading such lies about your mate like that, Cajun!" John looked almost offended, but that grin was still in place.

That grin. Almost psychotic.

"Pyro!" She blurted out. It was more of an accusation than a statement.

St. John quirked a brow, then looked pleased with himself.

"In the flesh." The Australian took a second look. "Bloody Christ, Gambit! You brought one of the bloody X-men home!"

At that mere word, several things happened instantaneously. Pyro leapt back about two feet, nearly tripping over the couch. One of the doors elsewhere in the suite opened, revealing one of the largest men Rogue had ever seen. The man was obviously a poster-child for steroids, or hired brawn. He adopted the unofficial strongman stance: arms folded and legs shoulder length apart.

Then, of course, there was Pietro. His presence didn't startle her. He had sold them all out once before to help is father. His loyalties were clear. The spastic spawn of Magneto just appeared in front of her, grey eyes wide. She was surprised to see him as well. The lithe, handsome boy was a member of the Brotherhood, even after he had betrayed them all. Why was he here?

"Rogue?" There was shock in his tone. It was soon gone as his began speaking. "Oh man! You-brought-an-X-geek-here? Boy-are-you-gonna-get-it-when-my-father-gets-home! He's-gonna-"

"Pipe down, Chachie." Pyro snapped, pushing the younger boy off balance. The speed demon toppled over on the couch, glaring up at the firebug maliciously.

"Where the hell am Ah?" Rogue thought it a good time to brouch the subject, considering they were talking about her.

She had a pretty good idea where she was without asking. One of Magneto's little hide-outs, no doubt. Still, she wanted answered. Putting her hands on her hips and adopting a defensive stance, Rogue awaited a reply, or an attack, whichever came first. Technically, the Xavier and Magneto had come to an unofficial, unspoken truce after the incident with the giant spider. At least until this business with Apocalypse was complete. Rogue hadn't been there, but she'd heard about it from Kurt and the others afterwards. That didn't mean she trusted them.

"Dis be Rogue." Gambit gestured to his companion.

"'Allo Rogue." St. John chirped.

"That does not answer mah question!" Rogue glared at them all. 

"Remy thought that was obvious, Chere." He winked at her, much to her annoyance. "Meet the Acolytes. Already know Gambit, and Quicksilver de daddy's boy. Met John, de crazy one. And there's the quiet one, Piotr."

His sarcasm was not appreciated. Rogue contemplated punching him in the stomach, But then decided she'd rather deck him, just to knock that cocky expression off. It would be worth it, she decided with a semi-evil grin.

"Have ya gone loony, LeBeau?" Pyro collapsed backwards onto the couch next to Pietro. He flung a magazine at the boy, who was frowning at him. "Ya can't just go bringing the enemy home for dinner!"

"Didn't seem to have much of a choice. Being chased by some very unfriendly fellows. Besides, it's not like Magneto won't change places next week, anyway."

"That's-besides-the-point-Cajun!"

"Someone was chasing ya?"

"Oui, dey were after de femme. Gambit must defend the lady, non?"

"You are such an ass, Swamp Rat."

"Your words wound me, Chere."

"Quit callin' me that!" Her fist itched to be planted in his jaw. She only wished she had hit him harder when she had first woken up.

"Don't think she cares for your charm much, Remy." St. John grinned. "That's a first."

"Stop-changing-the-subject!" Pietro snapped. His words were spoken with such speed, it was often hard to determine where one ended and the next began. "You-know-the-rules! My-father-"

"Your father this, your father that." St. John rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest kid."

"Maybe Gambit not too good with the rules."

"Maybe-Gambit-should-stop-speaking-with-that-stupid-accent-and-start-referring-to-himself-in-first-person!" Pietro quickly replied, his eyes flashing with obvious dislike directed toward the tall man.

They were like very small children, Rogue thought to herself. This was beginning to get ridiculous. How had she ended up in the middle of New York City, at one of Magneto's bases? Once again, this was just not her day. Not even mentioning the trouble she was going to get into once she got back to the Institute. If she got back to the Institute. She was apparently at the mercy of a house full of mutant terrorists who didn't seem to be accomplishing much more than arguing like boys.

Pietro and Gambit were currently in the middle of something that looked suspiciously like a staring contest. Something Rogue was familiar with witnessing many such matches between the younger kids at the Institute. St. John was just watching, that grin still plastered across his features.

"Excuse me, ya'll." Rogue broke in. "Seeing as how Ah didn't exactly ask to be here, Ah think Ah'll just leave."

She whirled, intent upon making it back to the door before any of them could stop her. She might have succeeded too, if she hadn't found herself nose to, well, chest, with Piotr Rasputin. Even without the metal skin, he was intimidating.

"You will have to forgive the behavior of my teammates, Miss Rogue." His voice was low and soothing. It carried a very cultured Russian accent.

"What?" Rogue was almost flustered. And Rogue was never flustered.

"Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea?" There was no menace in Piotr's tone, but still, Rogue hesitated. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

She thought briefly of attempting to absorb him and then make a hasty retreat. But given the time it would require to remove he glove, he'd probably be able to send her through a window. She'd already done that today, and had no desire to repeat the experience. She was, it seems, at an impasse.

***

That was how Rogue found herself drinking tea with Magneto's Acolytes. Seated in a nice, comfy and undoubtedly expensive armchair, Rogue found herself strangely at ease with supposed 'bad guys.' Although, technically at the moment, she supposed that having a truce with them meant they weren't the 'bad guys,' right? She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd somehow fallen into Wonderland, and was currently at the Mad Hatters Tea Party. All that was missing was the Dormouse.

Gambit had done most of the talking, explaining bits of pieces of their earlier escapade. It suited Rogue just fine. She didn't enjoy being in the spotlight. She only wanted to slink back into the shadows, hoping most people forgot about her. It was easier that way. 

Piotr listened with polite curiosity, only interrupting to clarify something or another. Pietro sulked, not that anyone was surprised. St. John, on the other hand, played with his lighter, acting bored throughout most of the story. His feet propped up on the coffee table, he was the very picture of a laid-back slacker. He made a comment or two, usually making fun of Remy. The Acadian would grin and make a remark in return.

Watching them all lounging about, Rogue was once again struck by the similarities between them and every other teenage boy she'd ever met, goofing off. It was bizarre to say the least. Their lax attitude could have something to do with the lack of the presence of Magneto, which was more than likely a good thing for Rogue. She didn't think he'd be pleased to see her in the home of the Acolytes.

"I see." Piotr's voice intruded on her thoughts. Remy had finished his tale, obviously.

Rogue looked up at him, but he said nothing more.

"My-father-would-know-what-to-do-about-this."

"Too bad he's not here then, non?"

"Maybe he's the one behind it." Rogue snapped, her tone more vicious than usual.

"What are you trying to say?" Pietro was quick to jump to the defensive.

"Ah think Ah said it pretty clear."

"Listen you-" The teen was on his feet now.

"Pietro, calm yourself." Piotr's calm voice cut in. He could have been threatening, with his bulk and considerable abilities, but instead, he sounded more like a tired mediator.

"Why are you here, Pietro?" Rogue pressed the issue, drawing the silver-haired youth's attention back to her.

"What?"

"Ah thought you were with the Brotherhood now."

"What-if-I-am?"

"Then what are you doing here?" She spat out. "Turning traitor again?"

Their eyes locked for a moment, and what Rogue saw in those gray depths surprised her. For a brief moment, hurt flashed within his gaze. A deep, resounding hurt that almost made her regret saying anything. Then it was gone, replaced by fury.

"What do –you- know about anything?" His words were spoken carefully, with determined slowness. 

Rogue was about to reply when another voice broke in.

"Pietro, sit."

The silver haired boy whirled to face Colossus, who was still sitting patiently, holding a teacup in one hand.

"I-don't-believe-this!" Pietro said. He seemed much more agitated than he had only moments before. Before Rogue had spoken. "You're-taking-her-side?"

"Hey mate, chill!"

"Mon ami, perhaps you should calm down, no?"

"Fine!-I'll-calm-down!" The speedster said angrily. "You-guys-taking-her-side? One-of-the-X-MEN? I'm-outta-here! And-just-you-wait!"

With that final threat hanging in the air, Quicksilver was gone, leaving only the resounding slamming of the door in his wake. For a moment, the room was silent, the four occupants looking at each other.

"Who needs soap operas around here?" St. John grinned. The Aussie seemed to regard everything as some form of entertainment.

Gambit said nothing. He had declined to sit, and was currently leaning against the wall, flicking a card between his forefinger and thumb. His gloved fingers manipulated the card artfully. Piotr said nothing, only sat on the couch, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked the part of the stoic, tragic hero perfectly. Rogue blinked, wondering where that thought had come from.

She had to get out of here. She didn't think she was a prisoner, but at the moment, she just wasn't sure. Most captors don't offer their prisoners tea, did they? She found herself wondering this while staring at her cup. Of course, she didn't know if she were free to leave, either. If it came down to a fight, her options weren't looking good.

"Chere?"

She turned to glare at the offender, who could only be one person.

"Don't call me that."

St. John chuckled. Rogue turned her patented Glare of Impending Death upon the Aussie. He stopped quite abruptly, giving her a shrug while taking another gulp of his tea. The lighter had been abandoned for the moment.

"Why not, Chere?"

"Listen Swamp Rat, if ya had a brain, ya'd know better than to be insulting. Especially to me." Rogue snarled, beginning to work the glove off her right hand.

"Ah, but Remy would never dream of insulting a belle femme like yourself." He grinned, not seeming the least bit perturbed by her threats. He was the very picture of the ultimate pretty boy, with just enough hint of that roughness around the edges.

She hated him.

"Cajun, yer just oozing charm today, aren't ya?" St. John was practically hooting with laughter.

This outburst caused both Rogue and Gambit to turn and glare at him. He only gave them an entirely too innocent to be plausible look.

***

As they say, all good (or, even in this case, bizarre) things must eventually come to an end. In this particular instance, it came in the form of the untimely arrival of the last of the Acolytes.

Door slamming behind him, Victor Creed stood in the threshold, his nostrils quivering as he sniffed the air. All heads in the living room turned to stare at him. He looked much as he always did. Tall. Hairy. And pissed off.

"Where?"

It was a word, but the way Creed uttered it, it sounded more than the growl of some feral animal, which was not too far off the mark. The question hung in the air, as they all knew exactly whom he was referring to. Gambit straightened immediately, just as Creed's gaze caught Rogue's. They glared at each other each other intently, neither willing to be the first to look away. The tension rose, an almost tangible beast hovering between them.

Creed growled, stalking closer to the armchair Rogue was sitting in. She felt her own expression begin to mirror his. She'd absorbed Creed before, and thus, she knew him well. Better than most of the Acolytes, no doubt. After all, she had seen into his mind. The tangle of memories had faded, but a few fleeting flickers of him still remained, buried deep in her mind. It was the same with everyone she had absorbed. Their memories, hopes, and dreams were all inside her. His mind was not very pleasant, but the least pleasant was the burning rage inside the mutant known as Sabretooth. A rage that was, at this moment, directed at her.

"Mon ami-" Gambit had smoothly interposed himself between the hulking Sabretooth and Rogue.

However, Creed was having none of that, giving the Cajun a powerful shove, nearly sending the slim man flying across the room, without a thought. Rogue's gaze flickered to Gambit, almost concerned for him. Creed was fond of shoving people around, and he definitely wasn't gentle. A flash of movement distracted her, and Rogue whirled back around to face the front. In that moment, he was there, snarling in her face. His clawed fingers gripped the armrests of her chair, ripping long furrows in the plush fabric there in his fury. 

"Ya want something, Creed?" She snapped, showing only her agitation as the bulky mutant leering at her, and none of her anxiety.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He snarled, then grinned unpleasantly. "Little X-brat comes to play?"

"Back off."

"You think you can order me around, little girl?" He smirked.

"Maybe." She shot back, raising one hand meaningfully.

Creed glanced at the offending appendage warily, still growling savagely. He wasn't taking her threat seriously. That was probably a bad sign.

"I t'ink maybe you leave de femme alone, eh mon ami?" That came from Gambit. He was flipping that card again, although this time there was an edge to his movements.

"Shove it, LeBeau."

"I think not."

"Is that so?" Creed's eyes never left Rogue.

He was a predator to the core, and that had never been more evident to Rogue than at that moment. She stared back at him defiantly. Her purple lips set into a grim line, emerald eyes flashing. She knew she could push him over the edge with little more than a few well-placed verbal barbs. The question was, would she survive the encounter?

"What's wrong, Creed?" She smiled. "Not getting your way?"

"I could snap your neck before you'd have time to scream."

"You're welcome to try." 

She tilted her head up at him, exposing her pale throat. She knew he wouldn't dare such a thing, although she only wished he would. At least as long as her skin, the bane of her existence and the source of her mutation, was bare. 

She was crazy, Gambit thought with a start. The belle femme was crazy. She was actually provoking Creed. She knew of his unhinged nature, surely. And yet, there she was, the expression in her jade-hued eyes daring Sabretooth to make good on his threat. 

Once more, he was struck by her beauty. It was a dark, impervious thing, much like the independent creature that possessed it. Remy LeBeau thought himself an excellent judge of beautiful things. Especially if he were stealing those things. And beautiful women were no exception. Neither were the hearts of those women.

Rogue was no exception. Many would find her choice in clothing, and heavy make-up excessive, and even "freakish." Her standoffish attitude to be unattractive. And her sarcasm unwarranted. Not Remy LeBeau. He found her intriguing, the say the least. The ultimate challenge for a thief of his caliber. The untouchable.

His interest in her had just begun shift out of the purely professional range.

"Chere-"

His words were lost as the front door exploded inward in a burst of crimson light. He cursed himself to not being more aware of his surroundings. 

And then all hell broke loose.

---

_Hope everyone enjoyed that? It's sorta a cliffhanger-type thing, right? The next update will come soon. Will be out of town for a bit, so I'll need a bit of time to work on Chapter Five. At the moment, it needs a major overhaul. But you can guess what is going to happen next.   
No real fluffyness in this chapter. But hey, no one is in love yet. Remy is intrigued. And Rogue, well, I think she wants to beat him into unconsciousness with a candlestick or something. I thought it was appropriate, given her EVO persona. Still, they have that unspoken attraction going on. Ummm, sorta. It's chemistry, my friends.   
And, there was a glimpse of the antagonist of the story, which I hope you folks enjoyed as well. It was my favorite part to write, honestly. I like bad guys. They are fun. I bet you can guess who the "assistant" is, right? And the identity of her "host?" _

_Questions? Comments? Hate mail? _

Thanks to Chaka, bunny angel (who I hope, enjoyed the little bit of plot development in this chapter), and Yumiko for being so supporting with reviewing! It means a lot to know that people are still reading this thing! Thanks again! 

Makura Koneko -- Thank you for the compliment ^.^ I was hoping that my Remy/Rogue dialogue wasn't too cliché or anything. I only wish those two would behave themselves though, and listen to me! We really gotta do something about these rampant characters. (Those "silly mortals" keep getting in the way of my writing time, anyway. Jeez. You'd think they'd learn ^.^) And ya know, you need to continue Turning of the Tables! I've read it. It's fantastic. 

Bettie-chan -- I hope this gave you some insight on the bad guy plot thing? This story IS going to have one. I swear! If you have any other questions, feel free to ask! 

Carla -- Wow! That was such a nice thing to say! Am not offended at all. Only thrilled that you think my writing has improved! That makes me bubble over with girlish glee. I'm really glad you like the fic too! You totally deserve a hug! 

Chaka -- You are sooo sweet! Thanks so much for reviewing! It really makes my day! 

Ishandahalf -- Yay! I got the fangirl squeal! *huggles* Now I don't have to hide behind my keyboard! I know what you mean about Rogue though. I like my Southern Belle with some spitfire. I think Remy brings it out in her. Those two are so cute. Don't worry, there will be fluff! It will happen. But I just gotta keep working on it. Those two are so stubborn, you know. Give me a few more chapters, and I will see what I can do. 

Girl number 1 -- Glad you liked the last chapter. Hope you like this one. There are ACOLYTES in it! Yay for them. I like the bad guys. 'Specially Pyro. Don't worry, there will be no Rogue running off with Remy. Then where would all the ass-kicking to be found at? Magneto will make an appearance later, as he has some inkling of what is happening. 


	5. To The Rescue, Sorta

**Notes: **_Am quite dissatisfied with this chapter. Have re-written already, and still cannot seem to get it right. However, in order to meet personal deadlines, must post it. Hope no one it too offended at my horrid action scenes. Will probably end up revising this eventually, so if anyone has any helpful comments [critiques or hate mail], they would be appreciated.   
In other news, severe sunburn, birthdays (Am now 20! Go me!), over affectionate pets, and very small and very talkative children are not conductive to writing. Oh, and I was out of town for a bit.   
Oh, and go see Pirates of the Caribbean. [If just to see my ultra sexy Johnny Depp as a pirate. That part was made for him, I tell you. And I am in love. Am definitely considering a career in piracy now. ^.^]   
Apparently, everyone loves Pyro. So, due to popular demand, he will be appearing more than I had originally intended in this fic!_

---

5/?  
Had A Bad Day Again  
ChaosCat  
10 July 2003

--- 

**Little girl:** "Mister...can I ask you a question?"  
**Wolverine**: "Sure, darlin"  
**Little girl:** "Are you...are you Spider-Man?"  
**Wolverine:** "No, darlin'...Spider-Man's a sissy."  
_[Wolverine 181] _

---

Under any other circumstances, it could have possibly been funny. The way everyone in the room froze as the door exploded inward under the unmistakable crimson blast that could have only one source. Wooden fragments showered over the room, the dust clearing to reveal the newest arrivals. St. John actually dropped his teacup, which shattered upon hitting the coffee table, spilling the dark liquid all him. Sabretooth shifted his attention from Rogue just for a moment, a growl beginning to rumble deep in his throat, nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. A group of very displeased X-Men were now standing in the doorway.

SNIKT!

A streak of black leather and adamantium struck the larger mutant. There was a resounding, snarling bellow as the two collided with bone crushing force. Before anyone could quite process what had just occurred, the two most savage mutants genetics (with a little help from science) had ever produced had smashed into the far wall, wood splintering under their weight. 

Piotr rose, his muscular frame instantly glistening as his skin was replaced with the hard metallic covering. The Russian did not look happy. Though at the moment, no one looked happy. Well, there was that one exception.

"Oh shite." St. John remarked rather cheerily, pulling a lighter from the pocket of his shorts

Rogue agreed with his sentiment wholeheartedly, if not his jovial demeanor. There was only one way this could end. Badly. The X-Men had arrived, which was a good thing for her. But there was a good chance she wouldn't be getting out of here anytime soon, wasn't there? Especially considering Wolverine and Sabretooth were now remodeling the place. Not that she wasn't grateful to Logan; she just hoped that he kicked Creed's ass in the most painful way possible. Quickly.

"Rogue!" 

Someone called her name. Was that Kitty?

Another burst from Cyclops caught her eye, this one aimed at Gambit. The Cajun merely angled his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the blast, which hit the opposite window and shattered it, showering the room with slivers of glass. The move was gracefully executed, as if he had anticipated the attack. One hand pulled a handful of cards from an inner pocket of his coat.

"No!" She yelled, rising from the chair.

She was, unfortunately too late. Gambit flicked one of the cards, now blazing with the brilliant kinetic energy, at the group of X-Men in the doorway with an almost lazy gesture. It landed at Cyclops's feet. The team scattered into the room, escaping the explosion. Rogue grabbed Gambit's arm, as the Cajun had just positioned himself in front of her. Her gloved fingers gripped his forearm tightly as she pulled him to face her.

"Stop this!" She hissed up at him. 

Their faces were very close in that moment when their eyes locked. The proximity of -him- registering just as their eyes met. Then, she promptly forgot. Those exotic eyes of his, a splash of red in a sea of black. They were hypnotic, beckoning. Beautiful, she realized, and then berated herself for thinking such things about him. He was the enemy. And annoying. And she hated him. Rogue wasn't supposed to be noticing how nice his eyes were. She was supposed to be fighting him. But she wasn't, was she? She was the first to avert her gaze as Wolverine crashed through a bookshelf.

"Don't t'ink I can, Rogue." He gestured.

She looked. 

So much for an unspoken truce. 

*** 

St. John had flicked on the lighter. Such a tiny fire source would seem like a paltry weapon, but when held in the hands of the rather unbalanced Aussie, it was much more. He grinned broadly, showing two rows of very white teeth. It was, of course, very hard to look threatening while wearing a faded Led Zeppelin shirt and shorts, but somehow, the Aussie managed.

"Time for a lil' entertainment!"

Flames leapt from the lighter into the palm of his hand. From there, the deadly flame sprang forth taking the shape of a giant feline creation. The blazing beast, under John's direction, went right at Cyclops. Having just narrowly escaped from being blown into tiny pieces by Gambit, the mutant turned to face the new threat, one hand going up to shield his face from the intensity of the flames fast approaching.

The fire creature leapt for Cyclops, paws of flame spread, and then abruptly collided with something in mid-air, losing form and splattering over the invisible barrier, mere feet from its target. The flames, although the form dispelled, had not completely disappeared. The carpet was quite flammable, and it caught alight with ease.

Pyro looked perplexed for a moment.

"Wot the bloody 'ell?" He muttered.

Cyclops turned to see Jean Grey standing across the room, hand outstretched with fingers splayed. Her telekinetic shield had saved him from being extra crispy. He shot her a grateful look. St. John saw her as well, his eyes lighting up. He turned toward the telepath.

"Ah, the little Sheila comes ta play?" He laughed. "Sounds like fun."

"Jean!"

Ready to defend the object of his undying affection from the psycho, Cyclops tapped the side of his visor, and one of those optic blasts shot forth. St. John's eyes widened and he danced to the side to dodge the dangerous burst of energy, flame printed flip-flops flapping as he did so. The Australian let out something very close to a giggle. 

"Missed?"

The flames danced around him merrily, quite like little gnomes doing a jig.

Cyclops frowned, and took a step toward the firebug, ready to let loose another of his blasts. He was stopped, quite suddenly, as the massive figure of Piotr Rasputin suddenly blocked his view. He swiped at Cyclops with one beefy metal hand, leaving the much smaller teen to leap back on the defensive.

"I think perhaps, you should worry about me," the Russian stated grimly. 

*** 

Sabretooth landed a punch squarely on the jaw of his adversary, and Wolverine fell back, claws pulling out of Creed's flesh with a wet sound. It didn't seem to slow the bigger man down, however, as the two launched themselves at each other once again. Their battle was something endless. It would never truly stop. It was only put on hold from time to time. They would not be finished until one of them died, which taking into account that they both possessed a rather amazing healing factor, would be quite some time. Or, perhaps not so long, considering the way they were smacking each other around.

This battle, however, was fueled by something more than their mutual hatred of each other. Logan was enraged. Not just at the mere sight of Creed, which was usually enough, but at the sight of Creed threatening Rogue. 

Logan hadn't been privy to the entire exchange between Rogue and Creed, but he'd heard enough to be infuriated. He would have been proud of Rogue for standing up to Sabretooth, if he wasn't so furious at her for provoking him. The girl knew better. But then, she'd always been brash, something he couldn't really fault her for. He had been the one who had launched himself at Sabretooth just as soon as Cykes had blasted the door in. Luckily, Creed had been preoccupied with Rogue, and had not noticed them approaching.

Creed let out a roar throwing himself at Wolverine, who was ready for him. A flurry of claws, fur, and trench coat, the two were locked once more. This time taking out the kitchen table, and a few decorative vases in their grappling match. However, with one placed kick to the back of the knee, Creed went down. Only for a second, however, as he rolled up, swiping Wolverine as the adamantium-clawed mutant went in for the kill.

They had both drawn blood at this point, although the wounds would not last long. Logan sported a long gash down the side of his face. Creed had scarcely missed his right eye, and had left the bone exposed, white and gleaming wetly under the lights. Sabretooth was sporting three gaping holes beneath his left collarbone in return. He had narrowly avoided a punctured lung. He was also sporting a long gash on his arm as well. Both were curtsey of Wolverine's adamantium claws. If they had been human, both of them probably would have been dead.

As it was, if they continued bashing each other around, the possibility of that happening before the day was over was increasing.

Wolverine swiped at Creed. The hairy man moved much quicker than many would have expected, considering his bulk. He ducked beneath the lethal claws, and surged forward. The results were in his favor, as he toppled Wolverine over. Once his opponent was on the ground, Creed lunged, intent upon finishing him off. It was not to be, as Logan planted the heel of his boot squarely in the center of Creed's chest as he went down. He kicked off, using Sabretooth's momentum against him. The Acolyte was pitched over Logan and landed on his back, smashing through the kitchen table before hitting the ground.

Both men were back on their feet in a flash. Creed growling as he shook himself, bits of wood falling from his hulking form. He stalked towards his rival, flinging anything that might hazard to be in his path away from him. One of the chairs flew at Logan, who did little more than swing a clawed fist at it, cleaving the chair neatly in two, in mid-air, and knocking it away.

The two men circled each other, awaiting an opening. 

***

"Then Ah'll stop it." Resolutely, the Goth dropped Gambit's arm. 

Rogue took a step forward, attempting to shove him out of her way. She was not; however, expecting the rather large chunk of what was once a chair to be headed her way, curtsey of the Sabretooth/Wolverine battle underway. She saw the projectile out of the corner of her eye just as Gambit snaked one arm around her waist, yanking her back. The chair whizzed by her nose and then followed its trajectory, crashing into far wall. And then through it, leaving the room beyond partially exposed.

"I think maybe de femme need to watch where she goes." The Cajun whispered in her ear.

His breath tickled her cheek. She realized then how very close they were. And inexplicably, she shivered. His arm was still around him. This was not supposed to be happening. She was supposed to be fighting against him now, right? Not practically leaning against him. She pulled away forcefully, turning to frown up at him severely.

"Ah think you need to watch your hands, Cajun."

BAMF!

Something large, blue, and furry struck Gambit from behind. Or rather, it was someone, the stench of brimstone filling the air almost immediately. 

"Get your hands off meine Schwester!" 

The move was so unexpected that the Cajun, even with his extraordinary reflexes, could do little more than twist his body to grab a hold of his attacker before the two of them hit the ground. They rolled for a moment, Gambit coming out on top. Rogue moved back, in danger of becoming entangled with the two combatants. 

"Kurt!" 

Nightcrawler was furious, and it showed. Howevever, that was not helping him in this fight. It apparent almost immediately who the victor would be. Kurt was quick, but his opponent was quicker, and had more experience in a brawl. Still, the X-Man was not about to give up easily. He kicked at his adversary viciously. 

"Kurt!" Rogue was beginning to get exasperated. "Stop!" 

The Cajun clearly had the upper hand at this point, and it was only a few moments before he had Nightcrawler down. Kurt was pinned, the side of his face pressed to the ground. One of his arms was twisted behind him expertly and held there by Gambit, his knee positioned between the younger boy's shoulderblades, keeping him pinned. In his free hand, Gambit held a playing card. 

"Really mon ami, I don't think you want to do dis." He warned. 

"Let him up!" Rogue demanded, striding toward the two of them. 

Nightcrawler wasn't listening to Gambit. He was too busy struggling, abeit futilely against his captor. Soon, he'd struggled himself out, and laid there, panting.

"Rogue! Run!" He yelled desperately.

She would have been touched by his concern, if she weren't so worried about Gambit possibly breaking his arm. Or blowing him into tiny pieces. Rogue ripped off her glove, reaching out to the Cajun. He watched her approach, but did nothing to stop her. She hesitated, something in his expression causing her to pause. Her hand hovered inches from his face.

"Ah am warning ya, Gambit. Let him go." No one messed with her family. Not even sexy Cajun men who were entirely too cocky for their own good.

"Calm down, mon ami." Gambit told Kurt, although his eyes were fixed upon Rogue.

Still, she hesitated to touch him. For a moment, they remained like that, her fingertips just a few scant inches from his skin. His expression almost challenging. Almost kind. It was a paradox. Then, with deliberate slowness, Gambit rolled off Kurt, rising to his feet. He moved like a big, lazy feline, and definitely not the house pet variety.

BAMF!

As soon as Kurt was able to move freely, he'd teleported to her side, pulling her away from the Acolyte. Rogue frowned, turning to look at her teammate, but Nightcrawler was looking elsewhere. He had interposed himself between her and Gambit, shielding her from the 'bad guy.' It was both chivalrous, and somewhat annoying.

She watched them both. The Cajun held up both his hands, looking as harmless as possible. He was grinning, still looking quite amused with the entire escapade. Typical of him, wasn't it? She thought savagely. Stand there and be charming while everyone else in the place had gone crazy. Kurt was watching him warily; ready to attack once again, although the results would more than likely end up the same.

"Kurt," she said again, pulling at his arm so that he would look at her. "Listen to me –"

"Rogue! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" He paused here, sneering at Gambit. "Ve've been looking everyvhere for you!" 

Nightcrawler put a hand on her shoulder, his eyes so wide and earnest. He had been worried about her. He cared about her. It made Rogue want to hug him. But she wouldn't allow herself that. It would require her pushing aside that wall she'd worked so hard to build.

"Kurt, Ah'm fine." She stated. "It's not lahke ya'all think. We gotta stop this!"

"Vhat? They are the enemy. And they kidnapped you!"

"No, they didn't."

"But ve heard Sabretooth threatening you!"

"Ya know, Chere, ya best be hurrying dis up."

The sound of the sliding glass door shattering had caught their attention for just a moment.

"Shut up, Gumbo." She snapped, turning back to Kurt. "Ya gotta trust me on this one. No one kidnapped me. At least not successfully. But we gotta stop this an' get everyone outta here."

Everything had gone to hell if she was the voice of reason, Rogue silently mused, although without much mirth. 

***

Tiny black spots exploded in his vision as the back of his head slammed against the floor. Cyclops blinked, fighting back the pain, and the disorientation that came with it. Was that the ceiling or the floor above him? For just a moment, he wasn't quite sure. He shook his head, still flat on his back where the Russian had thrown him. The blow had hurt, a lot. But he knew that Colossus was holding back, although he couldn't understand why. Cyclops was losing at the moment. His less powerful optic blasts seemed to have little effect on the much bigger mutant. 

He wiped blood from his throbbing lip. He wasn't about to give up, however. His teammates, his friends, were in danger. The Russian advanced as Scott scrambled to his feet unsteadily. The metallic mutant pulled his fist back to land another blow on the X-Men's leader, only to pause as a sudden weight settled on his arm.

He pulled his arm up, looking for the source of the problem. It wasn't hard to find. Clinging haphazardly to his forearm was a girl, her legs dangling as he lifted her to eye level. She was a pretty little thing, big brown eyes and cupid lips. Her weight was nothing more than a slight hamper to him, but a bit of a deterrent, nonetheless. The charming female smiled at him sheepishly. Scott shook his head, taking in the scene before him. Kitty had come to his rescue.

"Umm, hi?" Shadowcat offered from her dangling position.

The Acolyte seemed uncertain for a moment as to how to deal with her. Twisting his upper body, he reached up with his other hand to pluck the sprite from his arm by the back of her shirt collar. She had other ideas, however, as she choose that moment to become intangible, escaping his grip. She dropped through the ground, fingers phasing through his arm as well.

By that time, Scott had found his footing, and treated the Russian to another optic blast, this one much more powerful than the others. Colossus stumbled under the blow, planting his feet as he was pushed backwards several feet. Once he regained his balance, he frowned, turning back to his original opponent. Kitty had rallied at Scott's side by now, asking about his bruised lip in a plaintive tone. He shrugged her off. The Russian was returning for Round Two. 

*** 

Everything was burning. The carpet. The walls. Flames were creeping up the curtains behind her, steadily threatening to overpower her. Jean Grey was holding her own against the slightly psychopathic Acolyte. How long she could manage to do so was questionable. Pyro seemed to be a boundless source of energy, and even without his dual flamethrowers, he was a threat. 

She had been able to either repel or avoid all of his attacks thus far. Pyro hadn't given her much time in between to launch her own offensive, unless she wanted to be burned. He didn't seem to care much about burning the interior, which explained why the fire was spreading so quickly. She'd avoided the largest patches of fire by luring him away from the main part of the suite, down the hallway. 

It had been like part of some intricate dance. St. John's wild burst of fire against her telekinetic blasts. Neither of them had even hit each other yet. There was no place to retreat to at the moment, as her back was to the window.

"Come on, Red! Don't run from lil old me!" St. John called out playfully. " I'm not gonna hurt ya."

There was a pause, as if he were seriously considering that statement.

"Well, not a lot anyway."

He was approaching her again, his jaunty stride unmistakable. The smoke was rising around her. It was easy to ignore for the moment, but she knew it could be trouble in the future. The flames flared up around her, a sure sign that Pyro was feeling frisky at the moment. 

"Now, luv," he remarked merrily. "Let's have a bit of fun, shall we?"

The flames roared to life, leaping at her from the ground at her feet. Jean reacted instantly. She gestured with one of her hands, creating a telekinetic bubble around herself, and at the same time, lifted herself from the ground with the same force. She was almost not quick enough. Did he singe her hair? He better pray that he hadn't.

"Let's not." Jean responded.

With a flick of her hand, one of the hallway doors flew open, nearly ripping itself off its hinges. It happened to be the one St. John was currently passing. The abrupt movement took him entirely by surprise. This resulted in Pyro getting slammed. The door hit him squarely and he tumbled backwards on his backside. The lighter tumbled from his grasp, landing on the floor next to him.

"Ouch! Me arse!" He sat there for a moment, rubbing his forehead. "That was unnecessary, Red."

The blow hadn't hurt him, just caused him to lose his concentration. The flames around Jean began to die down. Not entirely, but it was a start. A sudden urge to cough overtook her, and she did so, getting a lungful of smoke in the process. She was forced to drop back to the ground, overtaken by the smoke.

St. John took the opportunity to rise, dusting himself off with exaggerated care. He retrieved his lighter in a swift movement as Jean continued coughing. Pyro grinned, inhaling deeply.

"Nothing like the smell of burning X-Men in the morning, eh?" He chuckled as he approached. 

*** 

Smoke billowed in the air, wafting down the hall to the main room. It was impossible to miss, as the air began to become thick with it. It made everything hazy, like an overcast day settling into fog. It was of no concern to Wolverine or Sabretooth. Even with their enhanced senses, the two men were unaware of anything else but their opposition, the onset of rage beginning to prickle in their minds.

They were the flipped side of the same coin. Both the results of untold experimentations in the mysterious Weapon X Project. Both involved in the fight for mutant kind. Only the sides they choice in that battle differed. What then, made them so different from each other?

Creed lunged at Wolverine, his thick fingers going for the smaller man's neck. His intention to dig those sharp claws into his opponent's throat. Wolverine was quick to counter. He took a step back, pivoting as he grabbed Sabretooth's wrists. While Creed's balance was offset, Logan moved. Using his enemy's momentum against him, he swung the larger mutant around. With a sharp shove, Sabretooth was sent backwards, right into the balcony door. Or rather, right through it. Creed's weight, coupled with the push, was more than enough to shatter the sliding glass door, sending glass everywhere. Wolverine followed, claws out. There would be no more holding back on this round. 

The balcony was small, a slight misstep would cause either of them quite a tumble. The drop was forty-two stories high. Sabretooth landed another blow on Wolverine as he stepped through the frame of the door. It caught him in the solar plexus, ribs cracking under the force of the blow. Wolverine doubled over involuntarily, his muscles contracting. The next blow caught him in the jaw, stars exploding in his vision. The gloves were off now. If Logan had been a normal human, that blow could have snapped his neck.

Logan growled, shaking his head to clear it and bringing those deadly claws up to swipe at Sabretooth. The bulky mutant stepped back, but the claws caught him across the chest, digging three shallow furrows across his skin. It was enough to push him away though, at least for a moment. 

Sabretooth snarled, flashing canines more akin to fangs than to teeth. Then he was moving again, toward Logan. Wolverine shifted his weight, lowering himself just a bit. He was ready for him.

But as it would pan out, he needn't be. The sky turned black, clouds rolling with a vengeance. Thunder crashed violently. It happened so quickly, the two fighters didn't really have time to register what it meant. Sabretooth was in mid-leap as the lightning flashed above, arcing down to strike him solidly. The light was blinding, Logan threw an arm up to shield his eyes from the white brilliance. The floor beneath him rumbled with the force of that blast. Sabretooth let out a roar of agony and rage. The clash of thunder deafening. The stench of burnt hair and flesh filled his nostrils. Then it was over. Victor Creed collapsed upon the concrete balcony. Unconscious, but not dead. Wolverine knew he would heal. He didn't have to ponder the phenomena long.

The smell of rain in the air. The wind brought the sweet fragrance, heralding her arrival. He looked skyward. She floated, white hair billowing about her like some avenging Goddess descending from the heavens. Storm had arrived.

"My apologies for the delay." As always, her words were spoken with that soft authority.

"Hell, 'Ro, you sure know how to make an entrance," Wolverine retorted, feeling the bestial rage subside.

She only smiled serenely at him. 

*** 

There was really little else she could do. Her authority was shaky at best, but she had to try something, before this went on any longer. She was going to tear her hair out. Ignoring both Kurt and Gambit, who were staring at one another rather intensely at the moment (Gambit still looked amused, which infuriated Kurt), she drew herself up to her full height. And screamed.

"ENOUGH!"

Her screech might have been ignored almost entirely, if at that exact moment, Storm had not brought down the force of the heavens upon Sabretooth. The room shook, the building rocking on its foundations. It even startled Rogue, who had not been expecting that.

As the blinding burst of lightning overtook Creed, all movement inside the suite came to a halt. The very floor beneath them had been rumbling ominously. The fear of the building collapsing had put an end to the fighting, for the moment. All eyes were riveted to the now faintly smoking form of Sabretooth lying on the balcony.

"Oy, who ordered the barbie?" St. John's remark's cut through the silence. Even he had stopped setting things on fire and menacing Jean to watch the proceedings. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him though.

Storm landed on the balcony gracefully, her cape fanning out behind her. It was like she simply took a step from the air to the ground. Then, she and Wolverine stepped into the interior, leaving Creed where he lay. Now that his foe was no longer a threat, he seemed much calmer than before.

"I suppose asking for an explanation would be less informative and more of a headache?" Ororo Monroe's voice cut into them sharply.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, it was a rush.

"Magneto's goons like, kidnapped Rogue!" Kitty was the first to speak.

"Oh sure, blame us!" St. John rolled his eyes. 

"Mon ami." Gambit cut in. "You burnin' de house down again."

"Oh! Right!" St. John grinned maniacally. With a gesture and a bit of concentration, the fires were out, leaving smoldering, blackened walls, furniture, and carpet. " Anyway, you yahoos attacked first."

"You were threatening her!" That was Scott, the angry edge in his voice catching Rogue's attention. There was concern there as well. Jean was now standing next to him. Weren't they just the perfect couple?

"That wasn't me!"

"Doesn't change the fact that you kidnapped her!"

"They didn't kidnap me." Rogue stepped forward, sighing. A silence settled over the group once again. "Ah think Ah can explain. . . . sorta."

Just looking at the faces of the two adults before her, not to mention those of her teammates, Rogue just knew she was going to be in a lot of trouble. She glanced at Gambit, who was at her side. The Cajun was wearing that same smug smirk, watching her unease.

She wished then more than ever she had something to hit him with. Something big, heavy, and painful.

--- 

_Umm, I think that's a good place to end it. I really don't like this chapter at all. I think it was supposed to go differently, but then Storm showed up. And Pyro went to play with Jean. Hope no one was bored? The next chapter will get back to the actual plot of this, and take place back at the Institute, primarily. And there will be an appearance by Magneto. Maybe even another scene with our evil villian-type folks. If ya'll want that? For all those reviewers who are waiting so patiently, I swear the Romyness is coming! I swear it! These things take time. You just cannot rush true love, ya know.   
I love Rogue/Remy relationship in the comics, but EVO Rogue is a bit different. I don't think she'd fall into his arms as easily. They have to work out their attraction first.  
I get so happy when I get reviews. I want to write each and every one of you back as soon as I get them! Then I have to wait. So it inspires me to write faster!_

**Carla –** Alright, I am tracking down Hugh Jackman. But I get a hug from him too, okay? Yeah, I like my Rogue to be stubborn. Creed is a big bully. And Gambit? He's a man-whore, but we love him anyway. ^.^ Except Rogue, but she will. . eventually.  
**Girl Number 1 --** Glad you liked the bad guys ^.^ I love the Acolytes, and I really want to see more of them in the show. Pyro is my new favorite. He's so lovable and insane! Bad Boys, eh? Never thought about a theme song before. Hmmmmm. . . .Oh, and I do believe Wanda may show up later. She and Rogue would either get along smashingly. Or kill each other.  
**Rogue Worrior Spirit --** You are close! So close in your guessing. But not quite. I love Pyro too! He makes me happy! Don't worry, there will be more of him in this!  
**Makura Koneko --** *gives you Acolyte plushies to hug* Your review is, as always, wonderful and appreciated  
**Ishandahalf --** I will share Pyro with ya ^.^ I don't think he'd mind. But I have to agree. His insanity is attractive, in a weird, Australian sorta way. And he will show up more! I promise you will get ROMY soon. She's gotta fight with him a bit more, ya know? Then comes the fluff!  
**girl4chat86** -- Rietro? Can't say I am fond of that. Don't really understand it, I guess. I mean, I've seen no evidence in the show for them to be even remotely interested in each other? Don't have anything against it, mind you. And your guess is right on the money. Sorta.  
**cool-chick-rae** -- Pyro's hair. Hmmm. I thought it was sorta reddish blonde? I dunno. Maybe he is a strawberry blonde? Or maybe it is red. I could be totally off base. I am glad you think I have everyone in character! Thanks a bundle!  
**Taineyah **-- Thanks for reviewing! I thought I'd lost ya! I am glad you like Rogue and Remy fighting. There is just sooo much FF mush running about, I thought I'd try something a bit different. And hitting him with a candlestick? Hmmm, I will try my damnest to work that in. Just for you!  
**Jeshichah Grey** -- Wheee! Thanks a lot for your very kind praise! Apocalypse is a villain from the comic books, who is mentioned in a few episodes of EVO. (Mindbender and Under Lock and Key) He is pretty powerful, and really evil.  
**bunny angel** – Hope this fight was satisfactory? 

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed! Much love is sent in your direction!  
Questions? Comments? Hatemail?


	6. Oogling the Enemy

**Notes:** _And I sooo glad everyone loves Pyro. Just because you guys love him so much, I wrote him into this chapter. Now he thinks he has to come home with me. I keep telling him I really don't have room in my harem, but he is quite insistent.   
I apologize for the horrid formatting of this fic. I just cannot make it indent things properly. Anyone know how to make it behave?  
Does anyone know of any good EVO fan art? I'm on the lookout for some pretty pictures. Or just pretty art in general. I'm not picky.   
So, onward with this fic. Guess what, there is more plot development in this! Yay! And a wee little something I threw in especially for Makura!_

---

6/?  
Had A Bad Day Again  
ChaosCat  
15 July 2003 

--- 

**[Drunken] Luse:** Alright, I'm going to think of a purpose that endangers neither society nor myself...I'VE GOT ONE!! I'VE GOT IT!! AYOOAH!!! I'm going to Mandratha and getting a tattoo!!!  
_[Poison Elves]   
_ _[Another note, I don't think he never makes it to Mandratha. No, there is far too much drinking and killing things for this pointed eared menace to do] _

---

"You interfered."

Eric Magnus Lehnsherr, known more commonly as Magneto, stood amid the wreckage of the apartment suite, surveying the damage. There was a good deal of it to survey. Broken furniture. Crispy curtains. Gaping holes in the walls. His hands were clasped behind his back in a pensive fashion. For once, he was not dressed in his usual maroon armor, but instead in casual attire. It did not make him any less distinguished, or dangerous.

"Oui."

At his side was Gambit; the tall Acadian's expression was unreadable. He had shed his trench coat for this particular meeting, but still wore his usual black attire. Smoke from his cigarette wafted in the air, curling upward to the ceiling.

"You're orders were clear." Eric spoke carefully, the tone of his voice displaying his displeasure at his Acolyte's actions. "You were only to follow her, and keep me posted."

"Oui." The same response once more.

"Your explanation?"

Gambit shrugged, obviously not intimidated by his employer's demeanor. He brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a drag upon it absently before speaking.

"Can't resist a damsel in distress."

Magneto frowned, clearly not amused by the Cajun's cheeky response. He said nothing else to reprimand him, possibly because he knew that Gambit didn't care. Of all his Acolytes, Gambit had always been the one most prone to disregarding his authority. The thief came and went as he pleased, never really bending to the authority of his employer. It was irksome. But one thing could be said for the boy, he always finished the job. Although his methods were often questionable.

"Apparently not." Magneto responded. "And the results of that rescue we can see before us."

"De Cat doesn't care for houseguests." Gambit offered, referring to Sabretooth's vicious temper.

"Gambit." There was a warning in his tone as he spoke the name. Gambit noted it, and then dismissed it just as easily.

The Cajun just gave his employer one of those disarming smiles and took another drag upon his cigarette. He was seemingly relaxed in his repose, standing next to his employer. However, his employer was currently thinking of other matters.

Magneto was perplexed. It was not something he experienced often, and that made him all the more displeased. His source had been correct. They were after the girl. But for what reasons? Why would They expend so much time and effort after that girl? The Rogue was far more trouble to recruit that she was worth. Her powers were formidable, but even they were limited. So why waste time after her?

Gambit had returned with limited information on the subject. Magnus had sent the young thief to keep tabs on her, to see if the report was true. As it had panned out, his informant had been speaking truth. The girl had been the subject in an attempted kidnapping. An unsuccessful kidnapping attempt, thanks to the Acolyte standing before him. They had done a poor job of an attempt at that. The price of the knowledge, however, was before him in the form of the ruined room. 

Was that information worth it? He had not expected Them to move so quickly. He wasn't even sure exactly what They wanted. What –HE- wanted. That was the primary question, wasn't it? Nevertheless, proper measures must be taken to insure he, Magneto, Master of Magnetism, was not caught unawares.

"Halleluiah!!" The excited shout echoed down the hall, coming from one of the smoldering back rooms. It could have only one source.

The corners of Magneto's mouth twitched. It could have been a smile, but was so fleeting, one never really could tell. The other Acolytes were packing their personal effects. Those that had not been destroyed in the rampage destruction from the X-Men's visit, that is. 

"It seems as if Pyro has discovered his treasured books unharmed."

Gambit chuckled before responding.

"Oui."

"Does he really think that we are unaware of his romance novel collection?" Magneto asked conversationally.

"He does hide them beneath his bed."

The two were silent for a moment. Magneto undoubtedly turning over the various plots in his mind, determining which would be the best course of action to take after this. Xavier knew nothing. That much was obvious by his recent actions in retrieving his student. At the moment, he was not inclined to share any information with his old colleague.

Gambit stood at his side, smoking his cigarette. His personal quarters had been cleaned out long ago. Upon learning that he was a thief, one often got the mistaken impression that he would have acquired a number of personal effects. This was not the case. A good thief had to be ready to leave an area upon a moments notice. Especially a good thief under the employment of Magneto. They'd changed positions so many times that this was becoming habit.

"You will continue to monitor the girl," Magnus ordered. "I would ask you to be discreet, but I would be wasting my time. You've already alerted her to your presence. Use that to your advantage."

Gambit said nothing. There was no need to. They both knew that he was the only one suitable for the job. Sabretooth could not control his rage. St. John wasn't exactly cut out for any sort of mission that did not involve things exploding. And Colossus was too conspicuous. Who better suited than a thief?

"You will report back to me, of course, if you discover anything informative." Magneto continued. "Colossus, Pyro and yourself will be relocating soon enough."

"And de Cat?"

"I've other matters that require his attention."

Gambit cocked a brow, but did not inquire further. It would have been pointless to do so. Magneto never shared information unless it was absolutely necessary. His Acolytes were left in the dark much of the time. He exhaled smoke, flicking the butt of his cigarette away. It landed on the ground and bounced before snuffing itself out on the carpet.

Wordlessly, the Acadian turned to leave.

"Gambit."

The cold voice stopped him.

"Use any means necessary."

"Of course." With that spoken with his usual cocky assurance, Remy Lebeau was gone. 

*** 

When she could no longer ignore her hunger, Rogue wandered downstairs into the kitchen. Headphones blaring out the half-crooning, half-screaming of Marilyn Manson, Rogue pulled the fridge open, intent upon finding something to munch on within. She was thankful that the professor left the shopping to Ororo and Hank, especially after the incident with Logan's attempt at bringing home dinner. Pizza and beer wasn't exactly the nutritional choices that the professor had in mind. Although it had been really good pizza, she had to admit. 

She'd basically skipped dinner earlier in the evening. It had been Kitty's night to cook. And Jean had helped. Rogue didn't know why those two bothered to take Home Ec. It really wasn't helping matters at all. In fact, it might actually be making the cooking worse.

She found herself singing along softly to the CD in the walkman. Although her voice was low, in case any of the other students should wander in. It would be highly unlike The Rogue to be caught singing to herself. It would undermine her image.

"Hey you, what do you see?  
Something beautiful, something free?  
Hey you, are you trying to be mean?  
If you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean."

It had been two days since the episode with the Acolytes. That incident had fiasco written all over it, and was an experience she'd rather forget. After she'd hastily explained what had happened to Storm and Wolverine, there hadn't been much more to say. The X-Men had retreated, leaving the Acolytes with a rather trashed base of operations. But not before Gambit had been able to get in one last parting shot. 

***

_Two Days Ago._

They were leaving, finally. It had taken little more that another crash of Storm's thunder to calm their bickering for good as Rogue had attempted to the X-Men an overview of her adventures. She left out many of the details, just sticking to the major events. Of course, St. John had lent in a few details of his own. They were quite colorful too. Her teammates had tried to question her, but Ororo had held them all off, telling them that a further explanation would be forth coming once they reached the Institute.

Rogue sighed, running her fingers through her hair as they all turned to leave. Colossus, having reverted to his normal form, was out on the balcony, watching over Sabretooth. The feral mutant was still out. Piotr had lost his shirt sometime during the battle, and Rogue couldn't help her amazement at the sheer size of him. He had looked muscular while wearing a shirt, but without. . wow. 

She wasn't the only one of their group looking, either. In fact, Kitty Pryde was staring at his chest with undisguised appreciation. Rogue did not blame her, although she wondered if the younger girl could perhaps be a little more discreet about it. It was so obvious that Kurt nudged her, trying to return her attention to the forefront before Kitty ran into the doorframe.

St. John was in the kitchen, singing loudly to himself as he filled a bucket up with frigid water. He was planning on dumping it on Sabretooth just as soon as the X-Men had evacuated the premises. His glee was apparent. 

"I can't get no satisfaction." He belted out. "'Cause I try and I try and I try and I tryyyyyyy."

It was making Jean glare in his direction with an almost murderous expression upon her pretty features. The redhead was looking rather sooty herself. Her costume covered in a layer of grime. Her crimson mane wasn't looking in top form, which was something, considering the time she took in grooming it. In fact, the ends looked a little singed, which could only be Pyro's doing. No wonder Miss Perfect was pissed, Rogue thought to herself. 

"Oh, no, no, no!" The singing continued. "Hey, hey, hey! That's what I say!"

Not that the other X-Men looked any better. Scott was sporting a busted lip, caked with dried blood. Kurt looked frazzled, his fur sticking up oddly. And Wolverine looked like he'd just stepped out of a very intense barroom brawl. He was scowling, which came as no surprise, although he looked oddly pleased with himself. Rogue found it easier to read his expressions now than when she'd first come to the Institute. Everything was a variation of a scowl. Only Storm, and oddly enough, Kitty, didn't look as if they'd just stepped out of a battle. Rogue could only hazard to guess what she looked like, in her ripped clothing. Her hair mussed, and make-up smeared.

"When I'm drivin' in my car  
And that man comes on the radio  
He's tellin' me more and more  
About some useless information  
Supposed to fire my imagination" 

Rogue had to hand it to St. John; he never gave up. And honestly, his voice wasn't that bad. The accent was actually sort of pleasant, although she'd never admit that. Too bad he was completely psychotic. Or was that idiotic? Perhaps both.

She'd nearly made it to the door when it happened. Just the faintest touch. Fingertips sweeping across the back of her auburn hair. She whirled, balling up her fist. But Gambit was already moving, that grin settling pleasantly on his lips. He swooped up her gloved hand in his own, raising it as if it were an untold treasure. He touched his lips to it, his eyes meeting hers.

Rogue was startled, to say the least, at the smoldering expression in his eyes. It made her knees go weak. Heat rose from her chest to her face. She wasn't blushing? Was she? It was so much like that moment when they had first met. She was transfixed by the intensity of his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat, her lips parting unconsciously.

Those eyes of his were something. As always, when she looked at them, she was struck by the oddness of them. And then how they seemed to fit him so perfectly. The brush of his chestnut hued hair across his brow. And the shape of his jaw, so strong. She could feel the heat of his lips through her glove, and the thought caused a shiver to go through her, although she was not entirely sure why. They held that pose for far longer than necessary, until a familiar growl broke the silent repose.

"Watch it, bub." Wolverine spat out, followed by a not-so-subtle SNIKT!

She exhaled sharply, letting out a breath she hadn't know she was holding. The spell was broken. Gambit released her hand, even as she pulled away from him. He didn't take his eyes away from her, although Wolverine was clearly threatening him. Instead, he gave her a slight bow.

"Until we meet again, Chere." In his whispered words was the faintest hint of a promise.

Oh yeah, he was definitely too cocky for his own good. She turned around then, beyond ready to get out of there. Wolverine followed close on her heels. As Rogue escaped into the hall, she caught a glance of Kitty, staring at her with wide eyes, the unspoken questions evident.

All in all, it had been just another bad day. 

*** 

Rogue frowned just thinking about it. Once they'd made it to the Jet, she'd been subjected to at least a million questions, none of them that she'd wanted to face. Thankfully, Logan had threatened everyone into silence upon penalty of death. No one threatened better than Logan. He was a natural. Upon arrival at the Institute, she'd had to relate her adventures in their entirety to the Professor and the others. They'd discovered nothing. No leads on why random men in black had shot her with a dart and attempted to haul her off. They'd interrogated her for hours, questioning everything to the point where she wanted to break something. This time, however, she wasn't to leave anything out.

Unbeknownst to her at the time, she had. She'd found it later, tucked carefully into the back pocket of her jeans. Rogue had known immediately that it had come from him. She hadn't felt him put it there, which didn't surprise her, considering his profession. But the thought of him putting in her back pockett her made her face burn.

She'd stared at the 'present' for a long time when she'd discovered it. It was a just a normal playing card, the Bicycle brand that they sold everywhere. The back was a series of red patterns. And the front, it was the Queen of Hearts.

He really was an arrogant, asinine, conceited ass, Rogue thought viciously as she pulled the jar of jelly from the fridge. Rummaging a bit more, she found a loaf of wheat bread and a jar of peanut butter. After locating a knife, she was set to commence the sandwich making.

Of course, if all that was true, why was she still carrying around that same card, tucked in the back pocket of her jeans? She didn't quite have an answer ready for that one yet.

At the Institute, things don't always go as planned. Just as Rogue had finished spreading the peanut butter, something exploded in the hall. She had time to roll her eyes and pause her Walkman before the chaos made it's way into the kitchen. Bobby Drake scrambled into the room, nearly tripping over himself in his haste.

"Hide me!" He yelled. "Quick!"

Then dove behind Rogue, or at least, attempted to. She whirled on him, wielding her peanut butter covered butter knife. He skidded to a halt, looking at her, and then down at the knife, with wide eyes. She smiled menacingly, pushing aside her mirth at the expression on his face. There was nothing like terrorizing one of the New Mutants to pull her out of a bad mood. And they all were well aware that Rogue could put the fear of God into someone with one well-placed glare.

"Eh, Rogue . . . lets not be to hasty here?"

"Bobby! YOU ARE SO DEAD!" An outraged shout sounded from the hall.

"What'd ya do this time, Bobby?" Rogue asked conversationally, pulling the headphones off so they could hang round her neck.

"Umm, nothing?" He beamed up at her, attempting the most innocent expression he could muster. All that was missing was the halo.

She wasn't buying it.

The kitchen door swung upon once again, this time revealing a very upset Tabitha, a barrage of those little cherry bombs of hers already in her hands. Upon seeing her expression, Bobby gulped.

"Yup, you are dead," Rogue commented, wiping some of the peanut butter off her knife and then licking it her finger. "What did ya do?"

"I'll tell ya what he did." Tabitha started in. "He froze all the water in the bathtub . . .WHILE I WAS IN IT!"

Rogue hid a smile threatening to creep onto her features. That boy was always attempting one joke or another. Bobby grinned in spite of the looming danger to his person.

"Yeah, wasn't it great?"

"BOBBY!!" Tabitha fumed, readying those little energy bombs of hers to start launching at Bobby.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Smith."

A large, furry hand settled on Tabby's shoulder. The three of them turned to see the blue furred figure of Hank McCoy, otherwise known as Beast, standing in the doorway. He smiled down at them.

"I am sure we can devise a less permanent punishment that death for our dear Mr. Drake."

Rogue decided that this was just about her cue to leave. Another lecture would not really be favorable at this point. Dropping the knife in the sink, she retrieved her peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the counter.

"Aww, come on Mr. McCoy! It was sooo funny! You should have seen the look on her face!" Bobby pleased.
    
     "Sometimes, Bobby, I wonder if puberty will ever end for you." Hank sighed, shaking his head.
    
    
     "Or start." Rogue remarked slyly on her way out the kitchen door.
    

Kitty was lounging on the couch in the rec room, gaze glued to the big-screen television before her. Rogue passed through the room, munching on her sandwich and searching for her misplaced Korn CD. At first, Rogue assumed the freshman was watching some random teenybopper garbage, like MTV or worse, something like Survivor. She was soon proven wrong.

"-And in other news, Sistral Pharmaceuticals, one of the largest prescription drug manufacturers on the East Coast, has officially announced the merger with the medical division of the famed Creed Industries." The news was on, and Kitty was watching it, entirely absorbed in the current story. Rogue listened with half an ear as she rummaged through the CDs near the stereo. However, none of them were the one she was missing. "Details on the actual terms of the merger have not been released yet, but during a press conference earlier in the week, it was revealed by Dr. N-"

BAMF!

Click

"Kurt!" Kitty's outraged shout echoed in the room as The Fuzzy One snatched the remote control off the coffee table and promptly changed the channel. Kitty leapt from her seat, hands on her hips.

"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" The TV blared.

"What?" Kurt, now perched on the edge of the pool table, raised a brow at Kitty.

"I was like, totally watching that!" She responded tersely as she rounded the couch, approaching him. "Give me back the clicker!"

"But SpongeBob is on!" He was giving her puppy dog eyes, something he excelled at, unsurprisingly. He held the remote in his tail, peering at her for a moment. "Did you just call it a 'clicker'?"

"Yeah, so?" Kitty snapped.

Kurt choked back laughter, as did Rogue.

"Oooooh!" Kitty threw herself at Kurt with that frustrated yell. "You are like, so dead!"

They all knew there was more than more television in the Mansion. However, everyone always fought over the big screen. The resulting wrestling match was actually quite predictable. With Kitty leaping for the remote only to have Kurt teleport across the room, leaving her standing, surrounded by the stench of brimstone and smoke. She made a face then whirled on her heels, stalking towards him again.

This time she didn't miss, jumping through the couch, thanks to her phasing ability, and half-tackled him. As the SpongeBob Squarepants theme song continued along its jolly little jingle, Kurt and Kitty continued to fight over the remote. Rogue rolled her eyes, evacuating the room before more insanity occurred. There was no peace in the Institute; it was a known fact.

***

He was in his lab when she returned, slipping in silently and leaning against the wall, watching him pore over the computer screen. She had not bothered to change, still wearing the same body-hugging purple leotard that the original owner of this body favored. She could still sense the woman in the recesses of her mind, desperate and caged. She relished that feeling, knowing she had been the one to cause the British woman's pain. 

The telepath and British S.T.R.I.K.E agent, Betsy Braddock, had been difficult to control, but thanks to the good Doctor, she now had the woman's body, and her memories. Of course, Betsy was still inside somewhere, but she was trapped within. Sometimes she could feel her there, pushing against her control desperately, like a tiny fluttering moth. Braddock still fought against the psychic entity now in control. It was of little consequence. The body was hers, and there was nothing that British twit could do about it.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, tapping elaborate strings of codes and words. She knew he was aware of her presence, and he would speak to her when he wished, and not before. So she waited, pulling at a strand of that oddly coloured hair. Not quite auburn, more purple than anything else. 

"It's done then." He never took his eyes from the screen. Something he saw there seemed to be terribly exciting.

She smiled, relishing in the memory of the kill. Matthews had screamed for mercy before she'd finished him off, something she would remember for a very long time. He and his team had failed in capturing their quarry. Failure was not tolerated in this particular organization. Especially in one of the Doctors pet projects. Matthews had been the last of the 'team' to be disposed of. The Doctor never left loose ends.

"Of course." Her reply was brisk and to the point. "Their services have been terminated. Permanently."

"Excellent," he stated. "Things are proceeding as planned."

She raised a brow at that, but said nothing. It simply wasn't her place to remind him that the initial attempt to ensnare the girl had been bungled horribly by that team of idiotic mercenaries. She'd thought it a bad idea to hire them in the first place. It wasn't as if she couldn't take care of the problem herself.

"Hmmm." His eyes narrowed at the screen. "Interesting."

She stalked towards him, and in the process, the computer screen. Most of the data displayed meant nothing to her. It was practically a foreign language, but she had a pretty good idea what he was working on.

"Is your team ready?"

The sudden question from him caught her off-guard.

"Sir?" It was spoken before she could stop herself.

"The new team." He spoke very softly, enunciating each word carefully. "You've been overseeing their training."

She winced. He was not a man that liked to repeat himself.

"They have completed their training," she answered carefully, her eyes now riveted upon him. Her fingers played with the cameo choker hanging around her throat. Even with the sleek ninja costume, it was still there.

"Then they are ready for a new assignment," he decided musingly, looking up from his computer screen.

That perked her interest immediately. Perhaps this time, the assignment would be worth her time, and skill. Those pesky humans had been hardly worth the effort to eradicate.

"Assemble the team," he ordered. "I think it's time to meet these so called X-Men."

Malice only smiled.

---

_Well, that's it for this week kids! Would have been done faster, but real life seems to have this way of getting in the way. Not to mention the insane amount of power outages that our area has been experiencing. It's a royal pain in the arse if you ask me. Grrr. _

_Anyway, there was some more EGIB [Evil Guys in Black] as starlightz6 has dubbed our villains, in this chapter. Unfortunately, now the guys in black are all dead. Isn't that peachy keen? _

_The plot is now set ^.^ Yippie skippy! _

_Tune in next chapter for cliché dream sequences, boy meeting girl again, girl attempting to break boys legs for just existing, and general Rogue ramblings. _

_On a totally unrelated note, can someone explain to me this thing called "Rola" (Rogue/Lance pairing)? _

_THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS! It really encourages me to write faster, knowing that someone is actually READING this! _

**Makura Koneko** -- You caught the Sprite reference! That totally made my day! Your request for Kitty/Piotr is noted. And I stuck a little something in this chapter just for you. And I am –really- glad you liked the fight scene! (Yours are pretty damn good too though. I love your writing!) Makes me squeal like a girl!

**Tainz** – I think Kurt is just too cute with his "I'm your brother" routine! ^.^ Now all I have to do is get Rogue and Remy in a position where she would have access to a candlestick.

**Rogue Worrior Spirit** – Hope your St. John craving was filled just for a bit. He will appear again, just not for umm, about two chapters. Hopefully, he will be funny too.

**Ishandahalf** -- Alright, I've called the cloning facility, your St. John should be arriving in a few weeks. ^.^ And the X-Men have no manners. Just breaking things and causing a mess. I bet that door was expensive too.

**starlightz6** -- Don't worry, there will be plenty of bad guy appearances soon. ^.^ And thanks for liking my writing of Rogue. She really is soo much fun to write!

**Scholar** – Yeah, Gambit's just that cocky to take her into the base without blinking. Geez, what was he thinking anyway?

**Giggleboxsam** -- Thanks so much for your compliments! You are such a sweetie!

**Girl number 1** -- I'll see if I can arrange and Rogue and Wanda meeting. It would prove quite. . interesting. Iceman was dead sexy in X2. I am a Wolvie fan personally, so had my hands full drooling over him, especially in his berserker mode. In my opinion, if Rogue got control of her powers, she would be damn near impossible to beat. In recent comic books, she started to manifest powers she had previously absorbing, which seems to indicate that she has the capability to use those powers anytime, if only she could control it. (I think she even had a pair of Wolverine's bone claws?) Just imagine if she could use any power she had absorbed, anytime she wanted. She'd definitely be kicking some ass.

**Jeshickah Grey** – Unhealthy obsession? Pish posh! What do friends know, eh? I'm really glad you are enjoying my story! And JG eh? Yeah. . .that is sorta creepy.

**Denial** -- SOMEONE LIKES MY QUOTES! Now that makes me spazz out! I am just happy someone besides me got a kick out of 'em! Thanks for your support on this fic! And as for your second comment. . .ssshhhh! Clever, clever girl!

**Sabby13** – Wow! Thanks for your critique! It's really helpful to have someone else look over what you've done and find your goofs! Here are my thoughts on erm, stuff. On Pyro: I will try to make him seem less British, and more of that sexy Aussie-ness. Just got back from Scotland, so that could have something to do with it. Wolvie/Sabretooth: Sorry you thought that was so long. Guess the Logan fan in me just had to write about those two bashing about. And then on Rogue/Gambit: I agree that Rogue wouldn't be so easily distracted, but in the comics, one of Gambit's secondary mutations is this subtle 'charm power' he uses to manipulate people. Was just playing with that aspect of his powers. It'll be mentioned later in the fic though.

_Questions? Comments? Hatemail? _

_Push the button!_


	7. Cliche Cajuns and Bizarre Dreams

_First, I have to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. The first half of it has been sitting in my notebook since before Chapter Six was even finished. Unfortunately, I haven't had the opportunity to be at the computer much lately. Most of the last two weeks have been spent either in Atlanta or in New York. Don't know when I'll be able to update again. May have to go back to New York next week, as my grandfather is having surgery. So, please be patient. ^.^ _

_And yes, the ROMYness should be beginning soon. Very soon. _

_Oh, and NONE of the characters in this story are mine. None of them. Marvel owns them all. Except for the EGIB, Matthews, who died. So he doesn't count. Hmm, who else can I kill off in this?_

---

7/?

Had A Bad Day Again

ChaosCat

1 August 2003

---

**Archangel:** _"You have no idea what it's like to have your entire life pulled out from under you!"_  
**Jean Grey:** _"Warren, please. You're talking to the woman who's been killed, cloned and kidnapped more times than *I* can remember. Let's keep it in perspective." _

---

She found herself standing on the beach. The waves lapping over her ankles as she paused where the waves lap against the shore. The stars glistening in the moonlight made her pale skin gleam a brilliant alabaster hue. She glanced down at her bare toes, the water washing over them. Cool and refreshing. The scene was perfect, quite picturesque even.

And terribly cliché.

Where the hell was she?

Somehow, the sight of her bare feet bothered her, although she couldn't quite fathom why. The wind blew her white bangs back, tickling the exposed skin on her arms. She discovered herself frowning at this as well.

That thought was put on hold for a moment; as she sensed someone draw near from behind. She froze, her heartbeat speeding up with each approaching footstep. She wanted to turn, to face whoever it was. Yet something stopped her, holding her back. Her legs were frozen, her body refusing to obey her commands. She could do no more than wait.

She did not have to wait long.

The footsteps came to a stop directly behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body. His? How did she know that? And yet, it just felt right. It was Him. She just didn't know who He was exactly, or did she? It was perplexing, and infuriating.

The sensation of fingers trailing down her arm caused her to start visibly. She wanted to turn, but yet couldn't force her body to move. Her fingers were calloused, playing over her bare arms. Her arms were bare, she realized. Something wasn't right with that feeling. Exposed. She should be covered; her skin wasn't supposed to be showing. 

No one was supposed to touch her.

The touch of another person brought a sense of wrongness and fear. Yet, at the same time, it brought a strange exhilaration. It was freedom from something she could not define.

"Rogue."

Her name, whispered by this unknown Him, sent shivers down her spine.

"I can give you this. The gift of touch."

Touch. The word sparked something inside of her. An explanation to the nameless feeling. She was the untouchable. Her skin.

"I can help you, Rogue." That same voice, beckoning.

"What?" Her voice sounded so small, even to her own ears.

"They can't help you, Rogue. You know they can't. But I can. I can give you what you crave." There was a pause. "Control of your powers."

Her heart pounded in her chest, the sand between her toes tingling as the world spun. Her voice, whispering in her ear. His fingers caressing her arms. It was surreal.

"Who are you?"

"I can give you a life."

Finding herself able to move once again, she pulled away, water splashing as she went deeper into the ocean. The hem of her jeans dragging, sodden material weighing her down.

"How?" She heard herself asking, hugging herself tighter.

"You'll find out."

She began to turn, intent upon looking at this mysterious promiser of the impossible. This time, her body responded to her commands.

"Rogue!" The voice cut through her thoughts sharply. It was sharper than His, and much more insistent.

She ignored it.

Everything was so slow. Why couldn't she turn any faster?

"Rogue!"

She pushed that voice aside, although it seemed terribly aggravated. She was almost there. Almost facing him. Why wouldn't she move faster? The ground was spinning so fast. Why was that happening?

The world stopped turning.

She looked up to meet his eyes.

"ROGUE!"

And jerked awake, her eyes snapping open. She pulled herself upright slowly, still disoriented. Blinking, she peered about blearily. Kitty Pryde was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed. She was already dressed, Rogue noted.

"It's about time!" The younger girl shook her head. "I've been yelling at you for like, the last five minutes!"

Rogue just glared at her. Kitty wasn't intimidated; she saw it nearly every morning. Rogue was definitely not a morning person.

"You're going to be late for school. Get up already!"

"Like Ah care," Rogue grumbled, throwing her blankets off unceremoniously.

Kitty rolled her eyes.

"Whatever." She flounced off, probably heading downstairs for breakfast.

Rogue pulled herself out of bed, raking fingers through her tangled auburn locks. Automatically, she first reached for her gloves, lying upon the dresser. It was habit, really. As soon as her fingers closed over the soft material, the memory of her dream sprang into her mind.

_"I can give you a life." _

That voice still sent shivers down her spine from the sheer intensity of it. But what had it meant? Rogue was used to having strange dreams. Sometimes they sprang from the memories of those she had absorbed. But this one had been different. It felt real. Rogue could still feel the tips of his fingers against her arm. The touch of another person.

Rogue began rummaging through her closet, her mind not entirely focused upon the task as she replayed the dream in her mind.

It had been like a scene out of a bad romance novel. The beach. The moonlight. She really need to stop letting Kitty drag her to all those romantic comedies. Some of them were beyond absurd, especially the teen flicks. She could brush the dream off as the product of Kitty's poor taste in cinema (Never mind the fact that Rogue occasionally found herself enjoying one of those movies, even though it was rarely). Yet, the dream had felt so real. Like she had been there.

She brushed it off for the time being. Figuring out the hidden meaning behind a random dream was not going to save her from being late for school. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a light grey sweater over a thin-strapped purple tank top, Rogue's outfit was not complete without her slightly scuffed black boots. Spotting them peeking out from under her untidy bed covers, Rogue snagged them and hastily stuffed her feet into them. It was then time for her make-up.

She glanced at the clock. Just enough time to snag a ride to school with someone once she'd finished, if she was quick. Thankfully, there hadn't been a Danger Room session this morning, else she really would have caught Hell for oversleeping. As bad as Danger Room sessions were with Logan, it was worse to be forced to explain to him exactly why you hadn't made it.

Plopping herself down in front of the mirror she shared with Kitty, Rogue set to work. First came the thick layer of foundation, the pale cream matching the light colour of her skin. Next was the artfully applied black liquid eyeliner, followed by eye shadow and mascara. Lastly, the dark shade of almost purplish lipstick that had become her trademark.

Lots of people thought Rogue dressed the way she did as a rebellion against something, or to stand out. That wasn't why she preferred the dark clothes and other darker make-up. It was just her style. Among all the other Abercrombie-clad students at Bayville, Rogue preferred to be herself. Not someone they all wanted her to be. Rogue liked the way she dressed. She liked the music she listened to. And she liked to be left alone.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Staring back at her was a tough, rebellious sulky Goth girl, not an uncertain, lonely young woman. Her mask was in place once more. She was "The Rogue" after all. This was expected of her. It was easier this way. To wear her image like a second skin. It protected her from the world. From anyone who would venture close. Rogue had quite enough of that. This latest incident with Risty just proved her point. You can't really trust anyone.

She scowled into the mirror to emphasis her thoughts.

"Yo Rogue!" Bobby Drake stuck his head in the doorway, grinning. "I think you just missed your ride. Jean just left."

"Shit," Rogue muttered grumpily.

For a moment, she just sat there staring at the mirror, brushing white bangs away from her face. Then she stood, scrambling to grab her backpack and jam all her books inside.

Time for yet another fantastic day at Bayville High. If only she could find a way to get there.

***

"Logan?"

"Yeah?" The Canadian paused as the ever-calm voice of Professor Charles Xavier caught his attention.

Logan turned to face the man who he had come to trust, a distinction the feral man reserved for very few people. Xavier wasn't especially impressive looking, but he carried himself with a cool confidence and sense of authority few could match, even though the telepath remained confined to his wheelchair.

"You didn't notice anything odd while making your rounds last night, did you?"

Logan paused, arching a brow. He was in the habit of making a sweep of the area around the Institute every night, just to be certain that nothing lurked in the wooded area nearby. Or to catch any of the students who were mistaken in the idea they might be able to sneak out past curfew. Since the mansion had been rebuilt, the amount of time he spent checking for intruders had increased. He usually started his nightly walk after the students were supposedly tucked into bed.

"Nope," he answered with certainty. "There a problem?"

The Professor seemed thoughtfully, steepling his hands as he spoke.

"Perhaps not. I thought I sensed a disturbance of some sort earlier," he admitted. 

"What sorta disturbance?"

"I was unable to determine that. The phenomenon occurred so quickly," Xavier answered musingly. "I could have been mistaken, however. It has been known to happen."

Logan grunted in response, folding his arms.

"Just the same, if you would keep an eye on things for a while?"

"Sure thing, Charlie," Logan agreed, shifting position to head out. "That all?"

"Yes," Xavier sighed. "And Wolverine?"

Logan turned around again, questioningly.

"Call me 'Professor,' 'Professor X,' 'Professor Xavier,' or even 'Charles' if you must, but not 'Charlie,' is that understood?"

"Sure thing, Chuck," Wolverine answered with a smile, which was almost as intimidating as one of his growls.

***

"Go Home Mutie Scum." Rogue read the scrap of paper aloud, shaking her head. "Gee, that's original."

She crumpled the paper purposefully and let it drop to the ground, then went to the task of shoving her books back into her locker. The badly scrawled note had been slipped through the vents into her locker, and had fallen out as she'd opened the door. It wasn't surprising. Even since they'd been exposed at mutants, on national television no less, things that this had been occurring.

Rogue just ignored them. The sly glances and hostile glares. The hushed whispers as she passed down the hall, just loud enough for her to hear. The 'clever' little notes in her locker. Principal Kelly didn't care. He'd probably find some way to turn the situation around, blaming her for it.

In a way, it wasn't really all that different than before. In a school relatively devoid of anyone remotely different, Rogue was an outsider. It had been much the same when she'd lived with Irene in Mississippi, due to her supposed 'skin condition.' Keep covered. Don't let anyone get to close. She'd always been somewhat of a loner. There were very few times she let it bother her. But here she was branded a mutant as well as a freak. It was times like these that she missed Risty, and cursed her as well.

Rogue slammed her locker shut. She wasn't going to think about that, or the many other betrayals of her adopted mother. It hurt. Out of all the times she'd been used, betrayed, and lied to, that hurt the most.

The flood of students around her brought her attention back to the present. Unconsciously, Rogue pulled herself a little closer to her locker, trying to avoid any contact with the passing kids. Even though she had little exposed skin, the danger was always there. Especially when the halls were crowded, like now, with everyone rushing to go home. She'd wait until most of them had fled the halls before leaving herself. At least school was out for the day, and none too son. The pop quiz she'd been subjected to in French had been wretched. The teacher was evil, and she'd probably failed it.

After missing the carpool this morning, Rogue had asked Logan if she could borrow the jeep. It was either that or walk, something she didn't want to do. He had agreed, grudgingly, on the condition that she drive some of the younger kids as well. It was an experience she didn't want to go through again. Between Bobby and Tabitha constantly bickering and being forced to yell at Roberto about teasing Jamie every five seconds, it was one of the worst punishments she could imagine.

Now, she had been talked into giving Kitty a ride home as well. The girl was staying after school to talk to her Home Ec teacher about her latest baking disaster. Apparently, the teacher wasn't too happy about having the microwave explode in the middle of her lecture. No one had been hurt in the incident, but Kitty was in a spot of trouble over it. Rogue thought the whole thing sounded rather funny personally. No one else seemed to share her opinion though.

Rolling her eyes, she began her trek through the halls. As she rounded the corner, heading toward the front of the school, she spotted a familiar pair of red glasses. Scott Summers, the object of her affection, was standing next to a row of lockers. He was engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation with none other than Jean Grey.

Hugging her books to her chest, Rogue couldn't quite quell the feelings of envy growing inside of her. It was an ugly feeling, but also one impossible to ignore. Why did Jean have to be so damned perfect? She was smart, talented, athletic, and beautiful. And Jean had control over her powers. Everything Rogue was not. Despite the fact that she was a mutant, Jean still had friends. Maybe not as many as before they had been revealed, but they were still there. And she had Scott.

But then, Rogue amended, hadn't she always had Scott? Rogue knew she'd never have a change with Scott Summers, not as long as she lived. But that hadn't stopped her from hoping. It hadn't stopped the wistful wishing for the impossible. Scott had been her first real friend since she'd discovered her mutation. Since most of Caldecott County had branded her a "freak" after what she'd done to Cody. Scott had accepted her. Despite her attempts to keep him away, he'd even befriend her.

She should be happy for him. For them. And yet, as she watched him gently brush his fingers across the top of Jean's hand, their fingers intertwining together, she felt a deep longing. Would she ever be able to touch someone so casually? To hold hands with someone she cared about? Kiss him?

Right now, the idea seemed ludicrous. Professor Xavier had promised to help her the best he could, to perhaps teach her control of her powers. But things seemed so hopeless. Her powers were her curse, condemning her indefinitely to a life without the comfort of another's touch. To a life forever as The Rogue.

Still hugging her textbooks, Rogue quickly ducked down the hall, attempting to banish the sight of the couple's intertwined fingers and the idyllic expressions upon both their faces.

***

Remy Lebeau had never been fond of public education. He'd never actually graduated high school, having learned enough to get by without such a waste of time. He'd learned that mankind hated anyone that was different, and Remy, with his strange, 'cursed' eyes, learned quick that he was very different. So he'd begun another education, on the streets of New Orleans.

With Jean Luc Lebeau, who had rescued from the life of a half-starved street urchin, Remy had a teacher. And a father. Jean Luc was an accomplished thief himself, and had recognized the potential of the eight-year-old orphan after Remy had attempted to pick his pocket. He'd adopted Remy early on, and begun his instruction. He'd learned how to bluff. When to fold. And when to know an opportune moment.

All had been helpful during his career as a thief, from picking pockets to casing museums. To say nothing of his skill at poker (although he was still legally underage to be betting at casinos) or any other game of chance. But the last bit of advice had proved most helpful when it came to women.

Not that he needed much help, with his pretty face and roguish grin. The accent, a reminder of his Acadian heritage, didn't hurt. French was the language of love, no? And he couldn't forget that mysterious charm, a seemingly secondary facet of his mutation. People- women - wanted to listen to him. They wanted to believe every word spoken from his lips, even if it was complete shit. Women wanted him. It was a fact of life.

He grinned as his thoughts turned in that direction. Arrogance aside, it was the truth. Women just couldn't resist him, even though he was a bit young yet. He never had a problem getting a date. As Jean-Luc had cautioned all those years, the key to everything was timing.

The man known as Gambit watched the lone Goth girl retreat from the entrance of the school. The last bell had run a few minutes ago, and most of the populace had evacuated then. The object of his interest had kept him waiting. He was almost beginning to think he might have missed her. Now she appeared, blinking in the sunlight.

Remy remained where he was for the moment, leaning against of the scraggly looking trees growing near the school and largely ignoring the few speculative looks being thrown in his direction from the students heading to their vehicles. The parking lot was largely empty by this time. Although there was little he enjoyed more being the center of attention, years of training had enabled to remain inconspicuous in almost any crowd. He watched as the little Goth girl, Rogue, paused at the bottom of the steps.

From his position, he couldn't read her expression entirely. He did note however, that she was not frowning, which was the look he'd come to associate with her from their previous encounters. Instead, she seemed pensive, dark lips pulled into a bit of a pout. Remy took his time admiring her. 

The auburn highlights in her hair caught in the sun, accenting her pale features. The white streaks were odd. He wondered if they were real. Perhaps part of her mutation, much like his eyes? Rogue wasn't dressed provocatively, or even fashionably if one was judging by the short pastel sundresses many of the other female students were wearing. Yet, he could catch a hint of her slender body, complete with just enough curves to make things interesting. Beneath the layers of pale foundation and dark make-up, she was really quite pretty. Not that Remy didn't find her painted features oddly appealing. The choice in make-up marked her as someone different. Something unique. She didn't fall into any of the other categories of women he had seduced in the past. She wasn't blonde. She seemed to be intelligent. And, she was a mutant.

The challenge her very existence presented as to much for Gambit's ego to refuse, especially when fueled by her earlier harsh retorts to his overturns. Even at his age (at 19, he considered himself well into manhood, and knew quite a few femmes who'd agree), Gambit was not accustomed to being shot down. It had been perplexing at first. When they'd first met on the battlefield, she had seemed to find him attractive, right? But then, after he'd saved her from her mysterious kidnappers, she'd done nothing but yell at him and call him names. Women were fickle creatures, no?

She'd given him no choice but to pursue her. She was too much of an intriguing female to do otherwise. Besides, Magnus had told him to keep an eye on the girl. What better way to do so than this?

Everything was about opportunity.

As Rogue made her way across the emptying student parking lot, he made his approach. Falling into step beside her nonchalantly, he couldn't repress the smug smile settling into place. She wouldn't resist him this time.

She took a step and a half before registering his presence, then came to a sudden stop, her head jerking around to confront him. The play of expressions that flickered across her features in that half second period were nothing less than comical. Startlement at finding herself with company. Shock at the recognition of him. Confusion. And finally, suspicion settled there. Mon Deiu were her death glares intense. Any other male might have run for cover at the pair of glittering irises narrowed in his direction, or the dark lips curling up into a snarl. But not Remy Lebeau.

"Bonjour," he began amiably, giving her a devilish grin, something he was exceedingly good at.

The hostility in her stance increased tenfold. She looked ready to bolt in an instant. Or, should it prove imperative, fight. The girl had spunk; something he had realized when she'd nearly had her head ripped off by Sabretooth. He could practically read the conflicting emotions radiating from her. Her body language spoke volumes for her current confusion. Her stance. The way she gripped the books to her chest. The tension in her shoulders.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, her voice carrying across the parking lot.

"Enrolling?" He offered, smirking.

Her eyes narrowed further, which was a feat. She wasn't amused by his attempt at humor, or by his dashing smiles. At least she hadn't tried to kill him yet, or call for another of the X-Men. But then, she didn't seem like to type to ask for help. What he knew of Rogue suggested she had a sense of independence about her. 

He wasn't dressed for combat today either, which might give her pause. Remy had chosen his outfit based on casualness, and sex appeal: a rumpled, frayed pair of jeans and a snug black shirt. His hair, now that he was out of uniform, had that bed-tousled look. He was also without his trench coat. It wasn't practical for this exercise. He was not without his weapon of choice, the deck of cards riding in his back pocket

"What do you want, Acolyte?" Rogue spat out.

He grinned, leaning closer to her.

"Why so formal, chere?" He inquired. "After all, we've been well acquainted."

"Back off, Gambit." She stressed his name, holding up a hand, gloved palm out to in effort keep him away.

It didn't work as she'd intended. Her palm came up against the smooth expansion of his chest. He just smiled, not pulling back. Her eyes flashed, and beneath the carefully applied make-up, he could detect a hint of a flush creeping into her cheeks. For a moment, she just glared at him. Then withdrew her hand as if it had been burned. It was all the encouragement he needed. Remy gazed down at her, and she met his gaze defiantly. No hint of infatuation in her gaze now. There was something indefinitely intriguing about this girl.

Acting on impulse, he reached up and brushed those silvery bangs away from her face, his fingers playing over the soft strands. His hangs were ungloved, and quick. He was a thief, after all. By the time she'd instinctively flinched back, his hand was already back at his side.

"Mebbe I just came to see you, non?" He murmured smoothly.

"Like hell ya did," she muttered, shifting her armload of books to one side. One of which, Remy noted with amusement, appeared to be a vampire novel of sorts. "What do ya really want?"

"Don't believe me, chere?" He learned closer, shifting his weight.

"Why should Ah?" She snapped.

"Because I speak de truth," he purred, his red on black eyes never leaving her face.

Rogue glared at him suspiciously. He was becoming accustomed to that glare, as it seemed that it was the only look she gave him. That would change soon enough. He found himself admiring her resolve, though. She would be a challenge, in more ways than one. She started walking against, brushing past him without a glance. But Remy LeBeau was not so easily deterred. Once more, he fell into step beside her as she trekked across the asphalt.

"Need a lift?" He gestured to a motorcycle they were quickly approaching.

"Go to hell," she growled, the paused at the bike. "That ain't even yours."

"Oh?" He pulled a set of keys from the pocket of his jeans, dangling them in front of her nose as he paused as well. "Je prie de differer."

"What happened to the other one?" They'd stopped in front of the bike, probably without her even noticing.

Remy smiled at that, watching her brows furrow in confusion, her lips pressing together cutely. She really was quite appealing. He shrugged.

"Take a ride with me, mebbe I tell you?" He replied suggestively.

"Like hell." She said again.

He chuckled, leaning casually against the seat of the bike. Lounging was a more adequate description of his pose there. It was a BMW, a sleek, black machine. He'd grown quite fond of it over the last week. Remy had pondered even keeping it for a while. He tried again.

"How about dinner?"

"Excuse me?" She just couldn't keep the incredulous tone from her voice.

"Dinner," he repeated. "Me. You. Candles. Roses. Then maybe my place?"

She said nothing, her expression conveying the message quite clearly. That message was 'you-are-the-most-insane-individual-on-the-planet.' He raised an eyebrow at her while running a hand through his disheveled hair. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Well?"

"Not a chance."

"Why not, chere?" He asked, learning his upper body towards her. She wasn't supposed to be refusing. This wasn't how the game went. He'd just have to try harder. His voice, when he spoke, was low. "Afraid?"

The proximity of their bodies clearly made her uncomfortable. And yet, once again, that hint of blush was evident on her cheeks. It deepened once his last word registered, but this time in anger. She straightened her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height (which still left him the taller of the two).

"Not even close." She bristled.

So he'd hit a sore spot. It was obvious from the tone in her voice. Pretending that he hadn't noticed her sudden defensive stance, he pressed the issue.

"You sure about dat, chere?"

"Shove it, jerk ass."

"What's wrong?" He tilted his head to the side. "Afraid dis Cajun's too much for you to handle?"

"Don't flatter yourself, bucko." she bit out savagely. "Ah don't date."

That gave him a moment's pause, although he knew he shouldn't be surprised, given the nature of her abilities. Still, the underlying hostility in her tone was more than evident. Beneath the ire and gruffness, Remy detected a host of conflicted emotions coursing through her. It required no special ability; Gambit was just good at reading people. Reading body language wasn't an empathic skill, just one requiring practice. And good intuition. And Rogue, for all her scowling and snapping, provided quite a challenge to read.

"Maybe you just haven't found the right homme, non?" He replied.

"And you think you're him?" The distain practically dripped from her voice.

"Mebbe?" He grinned. "We could always find out."

The suggestive tone of his voice was not lost on her. The auburn haired girl frowned at him, absently shifting her books to rest them upon her hip, leaving one of her hands free.

"Not interested." Was her cool reply.

He knew she wasn't playing for the other team, she clearly found him attractive, right? Then why was she refusing him? What was with this girl? Nevermind, it wasn't a crushing blow to his ego, he told himself. She was just presenting more of a challenge.

"I doubt that's true, chere." He grinned. "Sure Gambit could make it real interesting."

Rogue sighed, and a flicker of satisfaction coursed through him. As he had said, no woman could resist his charms. Her resolve was failing.

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was tired, as if she'd aged immensely in the last few moments.

"Qui?" He was confused.

"This!" She gestured vaguely with one slender, gloved hand. "Is this supposed to be a joke, Gambit? Well, it's not funny anymore. Why don't you go away and leave me alone?"

She thought he was making fun of her, he realized. That much was evident by the way she was looking at him. There was anger there, and irritation. He expected that, but not the other things lurking beneath that mask. Pain was etched into her attractive features, the deep emotional kind that came with betrayal. Not just one, but a succession of them, each coming from a person who was trusted. He knew that feeling all to well. Gambit knew that kind of betrayal, and possessed the scars to prove it. For a moment, he hesitated in the game of seduction, a sudden pang of understanding settling deep in his gut. It was that feeling that made him speak as he did.

"Puisque, ma jolie coquin, votre tristesse fait seulement la beaute dans plus lumineux,**" he spoke in hurried French.

She stared at him, her brows furrowing as she struggled to translate his words. A sense of comprehension seemed to dawn upon her. Her features softened, just slightly. The stubborn suspicion fading to a pensive look. So she knew French? 

"Maybe it is time you took a chance, chere," he murmured softly before she could reply. 

"Rogue!"

The Goth girl jerked visibly, seemingly now aware of exactly how close she was to Gambit. Her head whipped around at the sound of her name. Gambit turned too, internally muttering a curse for the poor timing of others. The girl calling for Rogue had just exited the school. The slim girl looked familiar, an attractive brunette, her ponytail bobbing as she waved to Rogue.

Gambit flicked his gaze back to Rogue, but her expression was unreadable once more. She was looking at the girl now bounding down the steps.

"Oh my God, Rogue!" The girl squealed. "I am like, so sorry I am late! But you wouldn't believe . . ."

The brunette continued chattering, her voice carrying across the parking lot, but Remy tuned her out for a moment. He had other business to conclude.

"Chere?"

"Don't call me that," Rogue answered reflexively.

She turned back to face him scowl firmly in place. It would be easy to believe he'd only imagined her earlier confliction. But Remy LeBeau knew better. Slipping a hand into the pocket of his jeans, he withdrew a pack of matches. With a lazy grace, he flicked the matches at her. It arced in the air perfectly. She caught it in her free hand, startled. He knew she would.

With that same feline refinement, he slid his leg over to straddle the motorcycle, nudging the kickstand with his foot while watching Rogue from the corner of his eye. She read the printed text on the back of the pack: the name and address of a restaurant he'd discovered in the area. Classy place. Good food. Perfect for a first date.

"Take a chance?" He offered. "Saturday. Seven thirty. Don't make Gambit come get you if you are late."

Before she could respond, he thumbed the ignition switch. The bike roared to life, causing Rogue to take a step back. The noise gave her no opportunity to speak. Remy winked at her before kicking the bike into gear. As he flew past, Gambit caught a glance of the pretty brunette, her mouth agape and eyes wide in recognition. And Rogue, her olive gaze guarded and intense.

Would she accept his invitation? Remy LeBeau grinned, the wind whipping through his brown locks as he sped out of the high school parking lot. Nothing was certain, but he was quite sure he'd manage to convince her soon enough.

---

** Translation of Gambit's French:

"Puisque, ma jolie coquin, votre tristesse fait seulement la beaute dans plus lumineux"

"Because, my pretty rascal, your sadness only makes the beauty within brighter."

_Well, hope that was enjoyable for everyone? This chapters just seem to keep getting longer. Crazy, ain't it? _

_Anyway, at least now Rogue and Remy have had some more interaction, and there is only more of that from here on in. Lots of flirting, fighting, and somehow I have to work a candlestick. Whatever is a fanfic writer to do? _

_So, do you think Rogue will go on this little date Gambit has set up? _

_Chapter 8? Well, stay tuned for more Pyro insanity. Rogue. Remy. And oh, what's this? That pesky little plot stepping up into the forefront. Won't that be lovely? _

_And for the love of GOD, review. I'll give you a cookie. A big one._

**Passionate Crow Rat** – Your name kicks ass, ya know. And yes, you do see a certain Asian/British ninja appearing. ^.^ How could I leave her out? She's like, one of my favs. And I did promise a Jean bashing, didn't I? Hmmm. . .

**Witch am I** -- I am so excited about the new episode this weekend. ^.^ Can't wait to see Apocalypse either. But the new eps are going to really mess with the continuity of my fic. Ah well.

**Sabby13** – My punctuation is wretched, I know. But I try, isn't that worth something? ^.^ Am glad you liked Pyro. I adore him, and take the opportunity to write him into this whenever I can, even when he really wasn't supposed to be one of the major characters when I started this.

**girl4chat86 ** -- Clever clever girl! Malice is another character altogether, but she is probably one of the more interesting ones. More about her will come out. I am glad you enjoyed the pacing, I am almost afraid that I move to fast. People want ROMY, and the want it now. I just like to get a lot of characterization in first. Thanks for your awesome review!

**cool-chick-rae** – I need a job. I envy you. 

**Tainz** – You great spaz! -is glomped and feels special- Get to work on your fics! That is an order. Else I shall be forced to bring out the flyswatter. Fear the flyswatter!

**bunny angel** – That is such a wonderful compliment! Thank you! I always worry characters aren't acting like themselves, but they have these voices in my head, and they won't do anything they don't want to.

**Ishandahalf** -- I got a gold star? SWEET! My life is complete!! The plot IS demanding, but it just won't go away, ya know? It thinks it might be important, sheesh. Keep telling it that all anyone cares about is the fluff. Magneto is just one of those bad guys who is nosey. Stupid busy-body flying around with a red cape. Jeez. And I would LOVE to hear your theories/suggestions for this fic. You are so great! You are getting a cookie!

**Rogue Warrior Spirit** -- You were really close about the Betsey thing. I know the whole Malice/Betsey isn't comic cannon. But I like her better than Polaris. So she gets to be in my story.

**Yumiko** – Yes, ma'am!

**Makura Koneko** – PotC rocks my world! Don't you just want to take Captain Jack Sparrow home with you, so he can say things like "But WHY is the RUM gone?" or "Savvy?" or even "Bring me that Horizon." Umm, my writing has never been described at Chinese Water Torture, but I will take that as a compliment ^.^ Thanks for the help on indenting, but I think my comp just hates me. BTW, you are not the only one requesting a Kitty/Piotr paring now. . .

**Scholar** – Malice and Betsey Braddock both belong to Marvel. Glad you like the plot! That makes me uber happy! Wheee! And yes, I do love Remy. He is so cocky, ya know? So sure everyone is going to just love him. Maybe that is why I write Rogue wanting to strangle him. It's too much fun to resist.


	8. Recruitment?

_Had originally hoped to have this out before now.  Nevertheless.  Here it is.  Not entirely satisfied with it.  Two pages longer than my usual, and I still didn't accomplish enough in this chapter.  Oh well.  Consider this the first half of Chapter 8, if you wish.  The rest will be out sometime soon, I should hope.  Enter The Plot.  Sorta.  Oh, and Pyro.  He just won't be brushed aside.  _

_Once again, none of these are my characters.  Even those that don't seem immediately familiar.  They are all canon.  Sorta. No Mary Sues around here.  We eat them for breakfast.  And their little dog too! RAWR!_

_Hope you enjoy!_

---

8/?

Had A Bad Day Again

ChaosCat

8 August 2003

---

**[Anita Blake, after an 'incident' with a female vampire hitting on her.] **

"Jesus, are all vampires over two hundred perverts?"     

"I am over two hundred," Jean Claude said.

"I rest my case."

[_Laurell K. Hamilton, Circus of the Damned_]

((Did I mention that Jean Claude is French?  This reminds me of Rogue and Remy so much ^.^))

---

"They went where!?"

            "Maine," Kitty answered absently, her fingers tapping away at the keyboard of her laptop.

            It was an odd relationship, the one Kitty Pryde had with her laptop.  It was possibly the one thing she loved more than the mall.   It was also the only computer she'd touched that hadn't ended up smoking.  She was sprawled across the one of the more comfortable recliners in the Rec Room, soaking up the warmth from the fading sunlight streaming through one of the larger windows.    

            "What the hell for?" Rogue queried, looking quite perplexed.  "Who goes to Maine?"

            "Stephen King?"  Tabitha remarked as she fiddled with the stereo.

            Replacing Kitty's copy of Shakira's latest CD with her own selection, Tabby grinned back at the two other girls.  Within a few moments, the first distinctive guitar notes of "Celebrity Skin" by Hole began to sound.  Rogue winced.  She'd never liked Courtney Love much, and thus disliked her music on general principle.  Still, Tabitha seemed to love the woman.  Probably because they were so much alike:  crazy and loud.

            "Cerebro picked up a new mutant," Kitty explained, rolling her eyes at Tabby.  "Just happened, the girl lives in Maine.  Not like, a whole lot of information on her, but the Professor wanted a team to go and check her out."

            Rogue frowned.  She'd just discovered that Scott had left, taking with him several members of the X-Men.  Of course, that had included perfect Jean, with her perfect hair, and perfect everything.  Rogue wasn't jealous, she told herself.  She just didn't want to fawn all over Jean like everyone else in this place.

They had gone on a mission, obviously.  Leaving her behind.  The Professor was still hesitant about letting her go out with the rest of the team, first because of the fluxation in her powers, and now, more recently, the incident with the random kidnappers.  Everyone treated her like a child, locking her up as if they were afraid she'd lose control. It was positively infuriating.  It was enough to give her the sudden urge to hit something.  So what if they didn't trust her.  She didn't need their trust, didn't ask for it.  

            "Why am Ah the last person to find out stuff around here?"

            "Maybe it has something to do with your 'charming personality'?"  Tabitha offered, the last of her words spoken in a bad imitation of Rogue's southern drawl.

            Rogue narrowed her eyes at the blonde girl, who only offered her a cheeky grin in return.

            "Or the 'Glare of Death' you've patented."  Kitty didn't even glance up from the screen in front of her.  Kitty knew her roommate all too well.

            "Very funny."  Rogue snapped, crossing her arms grumpily.

            She'd missed a lot of school lately, and the make-up work was becoming excessive.  Scott had agreed to help her with her Geometry homework tonight.  But that wasn't going to happen now, was it?  He was probably mooning over Jean at this moment.

            "You know," Tabitha began, "Jean and Scott always go on those lovely little recruiting romps to play Superheroes, seeing as how they are the oldest, and thus more mature than the rest of us newbies.  And because it gives them the opportunity to flirt with each other shamelessly.  Wild Blue Yonder Boy is helpful at times, too.  But there is something I just don't get."

            "Like why they brought Bobby along?"  Kitty supplied helpfully.

            "Exactly."  Tabby nodded.  "That is just asking for trouble."

***

            "Are we there yet?"  Unaware that he was the current topic of rather unflattering conversation back at the Institute, Bobby Drake was sitting in the back seat of Jean Grey's SUV.  Staring out the window, he was the very picture of innocence.  The rest of the X-Men knew better.

            The asphalt passed beneath the spinning tires of the SUV as the driver unconsciously pressed a little harder on the gas pedal, accelerating far past the speed limit.

            "No," Jean Grey flatly replied, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror.  Her knuckles were turning white from the grip she had on the steering wheel.

            "Oh."  He was beginning to look bored, which was never a good sign.

            Scott Summers, currently sitting in the passenger side next to Jean, only let out a sigh.  This was the fifth time Bobby had asked that question.  It was a very rare thing for the ordinarily resolute young man to question Xavier's orders, but Scott was beginning to wonder if bringing Bobby had been a mistake.

            Kurt, who had the unfortunate luck of being stuck next to Bobby in the back seat, just looked at the younger teen.  Scott could scarcely suppress a smile.  Apparently, he and Jean weren't the only ones becoming annoyed with Bobby's inexhaustible supply of energy.  Or bad jokes.  After nearly four hours in the car with him, the amusement wore off.  At least they were almost at their destination in Maine.  That was something that Scott was profoundly grateful for.  If he had to listen Bobby and Kurt renditions of Sheryl Crow's 'Favorite Mistake', he'd go crazy.

            Jean wasn't faring much better, if her grip on the steering wheel was any indication.  Scott was just glad they were nearing their exit.  According to the Professor, Cerebro had picked up the signature of a new mutant in this area.  It was a girl, and the Professor suspected that she had just discovered her mutation.  He was not able to get a firm grasp of her position, but with the help of these new gadgets that Mr. McCoy had been tinkering with, they should be able to locate her quickly enough.  

            The unassuming twin black boxes located in the back of the vehicle housed the devices.  They were programmed to scan for any sign of the x-gene signature.  The x-gene was the one commonly held responsible for making people like Kurt fuzzy and blue, among other various mutations.  Once activated, the scanners would alert them to the proximity of any mutants in the area.  Unfortunately, it could only detect the exact location of a mutant within a hundred yards.  Once they got close, they would be on their own.

            "So, what do we know about this chick anyway?"  Bobby inquired, playing with the button that controlled the back window.  Up.  Down.  Up.  Down.

            "Don't you ever pay attention to the Professor?"  Scott asked, turning to look at him.

            "Hey!  I listen when it is important!"  Drake attempted to defend himself.

            "Like the time you broke the beaker in Mr. McCoy's lab right after he finished telling you not to touch it?"  Kurt cut in.

            "How was I supposed to know what it was?"  Bobby grumbled.  "Or that it would explode after I dropped it?  But anyway, you never answered my question."

            "We don't know anything, really," Jean remarked.  "Only her name, even that if vague: V. Stratford.  No real first name, just the initial."

            "What about her powers?"

            "Unknown," Jean continued.  "Cerebro is only able to detect the presence of the X-Gene in an individual as it is triggered, not determine how it manifests itself.  Even then, Cerebro doesn't pick up all mutants, just those with stronger mutations.  We just don't have the technology to find all of them, at least not yet."

            "Oh."  Bobby paused.  "So, why didn't we take the jet?"

            "Because we are trying to blend in, Bobby."  Jean explained patiently.

            Jean had been in contact with the Professor since they had left.  Xavier had pinpointed the position of the new mutant as accurately as possible, but now it was up to the four of them to find her, and possibly recruit her.  Scott glanced over at Jean.  Despite the constant annoyances, it was nice spending time with her. Too bad they couldn't have gone on this particular assignment alone.

            "Hey!"  Bobby Drake's voice cut across his thoughts.  "Are we there yet?"

            "NO!!!"  The three other passengers of the SUV all cried in unison.

            Scott sighed.  He was beginning to get the feeling that his was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

***

            Rogue eyed Kitty suspiciously.  The younger girl seemed perfect content to clack away at that keyboard, although Rogue couldn't hazard to guess what the girl was doing.  She did know, however, that it was only a matter of time before Kitty attempted to interrogate her again.  The purpose of these torture sessions she'd been put through in the last week?  The unexpected visit at Bayville High by one annoying Cajun.  It had been really rotten luck that Kitty had recognized him.  Rogue had to admit she was grateful Kitty had shown up when she did, and almost a little disappointed.

            Damn that Cajun!  He was so confusing.  Why had he gone through the trouble of seeing her?  He had to know that one of the others could have seen him, like Scott, who wouldn't have thought twice about blasting him into the next season.  What did he want?  A date?  Yeah right.  He was after something, but what?  And why did he have to sound so sincere?

            She'd spent the entire week dreading the weekend.  And now that it was Friday, she was practically a bundle of nerves beneath the painted exterior.  Tomorrow was Saturday.  Saturday was the day Remy had invited her to dinner.  Was she going to go?  Not a chance in hell.  He was an Acolyte, after all.  And had tried to kill them more than once.  Now he was trying to play nice to her?  Was the man daft?

            "You're scowling again," Kitty chided slyly.

            "So?"

            Kitty shrugged, snapping her laptop closed.  Then she giggled, stretching her arms above her head lazily.  It was just the two of them now.  Tabitha had been dragged to the Danger Room (Amara had appeared, panicking about Wolverine coming after them if they were late), and Rogue had retreated upstairs to her room, only to have Kitty follow her.  Kitty had been fully engrossed by some program on her laptop, giving Rogue ample time to brood in peace, until now.  Convinced that Rogue was hiding something from her, Kitty had been pestering her constantly for information about Gambit.  Rogue had denied it, trying to get Kitty to leave her alone.

            Unfortunately, Rogue was hiding something from Kitty.  She'd lied, telling Kitty that she didn't know why Gambit had appeared, only that he'd just made a comment or two and then sped off.  She couldn't tell her roommate about his propositions, or his flattery.  Not unless she wanted the entire Institute to know.  If the Professor found out – No- if Logan found out, there would be a dead Cajun.  She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.  No, it was best to drop it.  Completely.  Ignore him and his offers.  And the way her heart sped when he spoke.  The way her knees went wobbly when she stared at her.  Those eyes were just intense.  Oh God!  She was starting to sound like a lovesick Kitty Pryde!

            "Lets go out tonight!"  Kitty suggested.

            "Excuse me?"  Rogue wondered if Kitty realized whom she was talking to.

            "Like, to the movies or something."

            "Ah don't think so."

            "Come on!  Why not?  It is Friday, you know."

            "Because."

            "Like, because why, Rogue?"

            "Just because!"  Rogue snapped peevishly.        

            Kitty sighed mournfully.  Her playful expression was gone, replaced with a hurt look.  Rogue didn't care.  Kitty knew better than to suggest they go out for some mindless teenybopper flick.  It was demeaning.  Rogue could only handle so many romantic comedies.  After that horrid one with Cameron Diaz, she'd had enough for the next decade. She glanced over at her roommate.  The girl was actually pouting.  Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Rogue closed them instead, leaning back on her bed.

            "Hey Rogue!"

            Her eyes snapped open.  Sam Guthrie stood in the open doorway, flanked by the spiky haired Ray, both younger students at the Institute.  Rogue raised a brow.

            "What?"  Her cold tone was reflexive.  

            The Kentucky bred southerner only smiled.  Sam was one of the few New Mutants that Rogue tolerated well.  The two of them had a common background, which included accents that got them quite a bit of teasing.

            "Ya got a package, gal."  He held an inconspicuous cardboard box out to her.

            "Me?"  Rogue blinked.  She never received mail.

            "Yup."

            She rose from the bed and took the box from Sam, staring at it.  Her name was there, written in impersonal block letters.  That was it.  There was no return address.  Nor even any postage.  Odd to say the least.

            "It was on the porch," Sam explained, shoving his hands into his pockets.  "Me and Ray found it."

            "Ooooh!"  Kitty's eyes lit up as she leapt from her seat.  "Who's it from?"

            "Ah don't know," she answered, peering at the box suspiciously.

            "Ain't ya gonna open it?"  Sam drawled.

            Rogue realized she was suddenly the center of attention.  Kitty was practically crawling over her to get a better look at the package.  Both Sam and Ray were waiting expectantly.  Rogue felt a sudden surge of self-consciousness, clutching the package a bit closer to her.

            "Not with y'all around."  She eyed the two boys.  "Now git!"

            After a few choruses of "Aww Rogue" and other such whining, she was able to rid herself of the boys.  Unfortunately, Kitty was a different story, claiming that it was her room too.  And even if Rogue locked her out, it wouldn't deter her for long.  It was a lost cause.

            "Well, like, open it!"  Kitty was practically hopping in her anticipation.

            "Alright. Alright."

            Flopping back down on her bed, Rogue began working the box open.  Ripping away the duct tape, she attempted to ignore Kitty, who had perched beside her.  Once she'd worked the box open, she stared at the contents.

            "What is it?"  Kitty demanded.

            Rogue pulled out the object, wrapped in a shimmering burgundy scarf.  The sheer material was slippery beneath her gloved fingers as she gently began unwinding the object nestled within.

            "It's beautiful!" Her roommate squealed.

            Rogue had to agree, although she wasn't sure which thing Kitty was praising.  The scarf was lovely, but the other  . . . It was a book.  A journal, to be precise.  One of the elegant, expensive sort.  The cover was so blue it bordered upon black.  An inky midnight shade.  As she tilted it curiously, the book caught the light, casting a silvery gleam over the surface.  The etching was in silver as well, the design a series of Celtic knots.

            She just held it for a moment, quite confused.  Why would someone send her something like this? It was nice, but very unexpected.  Christmas was months away, as was her birthday.  Confused, and beginning to grow suspicious, Rogue frowned.  Determined to find out, she flipped the book open, looking for a clue. A scrap of paper fell to the floor, but that didn't attract her attention immediately.  Instead of a clue, tucked inside the cover was a note.  Her eyes widened upon reading the elegant script.

_                        Chere –_

_                                    Something to hold your secrets._

_                                    Maybe you'll write about me?_

_-- Remy_

            Remy. Upon reading the name, words sprung unbidden into her mind.  The words he had spoken to her earlier in the week.

            _"Puisque, ma jolie coquin, votre tristesse fait seulement la beaute dans plus lumineux."_

            What exactly had he meant by that?  Nothing he did made any sense.  One minute he was trying to blow her hand off, and the next he was asking her out for dinner.  Some bad guy he was turning out to be.  God, this was confusing.  Hadn't she made it very clear she wasn't interested in him?  She didn't know what more to do save beating him over the head with a large object.

            "Rogue?"

            She turned to look at Kitty, the open journal on her lap.  The younger girl was holding the scrap of paper that had fallen from the journal.  Only it wasn't a scrap of paper.  It was a playing card.  The King of Hearts.  And from the expression on Kitty's face, she knew who had sent it.  And Rogue knew she wasn't going to get out of this one so easily.

***

            "Is she close?"  Scott gasped out.

            Jean nodded, scarcely taking her eyes from the screen of the hand held device as they ran; brushing past startled pedestrians on the sidewalk.  Behind them, Bobby Drake struggled to keep up, wheezing audibly.  Not that Scott blamed him.  They'd been running forever, chasing after that girl.  They'd found the mutant the Professor had sent them after, but right after they'd approached, the girl had panicked, and run off.  The poor girl had been terrified, fleeing as if the hounds of hell were fast approaching on her heels.

            "Why is she running?"  Bobby coughed.

            Scott had no idea.  He only shook his head.

            "Maybe we scared her?"  Jean suggested.

            It was plausible.  Perhaps the presence of four strangers introducing themselves as mutants sent the girl into a panic?  Or maybe they hadn't been the first group to arrive.  Magneto wasn't known for his patience or geniality. 

            Out of the three of them, Jean was the least winded.  Probably due to her impressive background in varsity sports.  The girl was practically on every team the high school had.  And with all that practicing, she had a very nice physique.  One Scott rather liked admiring at times.  Especially when she wore those tiny gym shorts.

            "She's heading north," Nightcrawler advised over the short-range communicator.  "I think she's slowing."

            Kurt had been their eyes, from his perch atop various buildings in the urban area, helping them keep up with the girl and keeping himself out of sight.  The four of them were still in civilian clothes, and the sight of a group of teenagers running like mad was hardly anything unusual, given the general nature of teenagers.  They were all equipped with the short-ranged communicators Logan had demanded they bring along, which had proved useful on this assignment.

            They turned around street corner, the device signally they were getting closer.  Jean hadn't been able to make contact with the Stratford girl yet, but she'd attributed that to her inability to control that aspect of her powers completely.  

            "Uh guys," Kurt blurted out.  "I zink I lost her."

            "What?"

            "Oh man!"  Bobby groaned.

            "She's at the bus station."  The bluff fuzzy one explained.  "Looks like she ducked into the bus parking lot.  Want me to follow?"

            Scott and Jean exchanged a look.

            "Are you getting anything from her yet?"  He asked.

            "No, only a vague, nervous feeling."  Jean frowned.  "She's terrified of us, Scott.  But I can't figure out why."

            "Maybe she's just psychotic."  Bobby was panting so hard it was hard to make out his words.

            "Negative," Scott responded into the communicator, ignoring Iceman.  "First we regroup."

            "Sure thing, Oh Fearless Leader."

--

            "She's there."  Kurt pointed vaguely to the rows of parked charter buses all lined up.

They'd met Kurt in front of the bus station.  He was wearing his image inducer, replacing  the fuzzy blue elf with the khaki-clad, nervous looking teen.  Once the rest had arrived, he'd hurriedly babbled something about losing her in the crowd.  The crowd seemed to be at a minimum considering it was a Friday night.  Nevertheless, it was easy to become lost in the flow and ebb of people.  Kurt had thought he'd seen the blonde disappear into one of the parking lots that was used to park charter buses when they weren't needed. 

That was where they were now.  The buses loomed around them, giving them very limited visibility of the rest of the parking lot.  Kurt had offered to climb atop one of the vehicles to get a closer look, but Scott had refused.  They weren't technically supposed to be in this area, although the security attendant had been nowhere to be found when they'd entered the lot.

The sun was beginning to set, casting ominous shadows over the parking lot.  The outside lights had yet to kick on, leaving the murky buses looking a bit like gloomy monstrosities hunched in the darkness.

"Creepy." Bobby remarked to no one in particular.

"Ja," Kurt agreed.  "Like a bad horror movie or something."

"You two are being overdramatic."  Jean rolled her eyes.  "And you both have overactive imaginations.  This is not a movie."

"This is coming from the girl who reads minds," Kurt shot back.  "Speaking to The Great Fuzzy One, and that guy that makes the ice."

"Hey!"  Bobby frowned.  "How come you get a title, and I'm just 'that guy that makes ice'?"

"Seniority."  Kurt explained.

"Oh."  Bobby nodded.

            "If we could get back to the subject at hand?" Jean reminded them.  "We are supposed to be finding Ms. Stratford, who is probably scared out of her mind at this point in time."

            They fell silent, looking almost sheepish, but not quite.  As if in response to Jean's words, the sudden echoing of running footsteps sounded.  Heads turned in the direction of the noise.  A far distance away, a flash of white clothing, blonde hair, and wide, frightened eyes was visible before the girl disappeared behind one of the buses.

            "Well, that was easy."  Bobby started in that direction.

            "Wait!"  Jean held up a hand.  "Let me go talk to her."

            "But-"

            "Don't even think of pulling that Macho Male stuff with me right now,  Scott Summers."  Jean Grey bristled, her eyes flashing.  "That girl is terrified, and I'd like to find out why.  Don't you?"

            "Yeah-" Tongue-tied, he couldn't quite protest.

            "And I am much less threatening-looking than the three of you, right?"

            "Mmhmm."

            "Then it's settled."  Jean crossed her arms, daring him to argue.  "I'll go talk to her.  You three can back me up."

            Scott looked to Kurt and Bobby for any sign of support.  They were both conveniently looking the other way.  He let out a sigh.  Scott just couldn't argue with her, could at her?  Just look at her.  Jean beamed at him.  At least, he thought she was beaming; maybe she was just looking smug.

--

            The girl wasn't hard to find.  She was cowering behind one of the large greyhound buses, her long, wavy blonde hair obscuring her features.  Jean noted with some amusement that there were streaks of green dyed in her otherwise pretty hair.  Maybe it was natural?  She thought of Rogue briefly.  Strange colored hair seemed to be a trend with mutants.  Personally, Jean thought it was rather tacky.  

A loud sniffle escaped the girl's form, drawing Jean's sympathy out at once.  The poor thing was clearly terrified.  V. Stratford was no older than Jean, maybe even younger.  The girl was crouching against the side of the bus, hugging her knees.  Jean approached softly, careful not to startle her.  Reaching out with her fledging telepathy, she attempted to sooth the girl, only to come up against a smooth, impenetrable white wall.  On the surface, there was fear, and anxiety.  Beneath that?  Nothing.

"Miss Stratford?"  She queried softly.  "Don't be scared.  I only want to talk to you for a minute."

The girl flinched at the sound of her voice, but slowly, so very slowly, she lifted her head up, peering at Jean with cloudy blue eyes.  Her green streaked locks fell around her face, painting an attractive, yet vulnerable picture of the young woman.  She was wearing a pair of knee high white Go-Go boots with chunky heels.  How had she run in those things?  With a short white skirt, blue swirled sleeveless top, and perfectly circular sunglasses perched atop her head, the girl was an odd sight, like something out of the sixties.  Jean wondered, not for the first time, what her mutation was.

The girl didn't speak, but didn't run away again either.  Jean took that as a good sign.  She came closer, still cautious.  Bobby, Kurt, and Scott were all hanging back, out of sight at the moment, but not too far away.

"My name is Jean Grey."  She tried to draw the girl out of her shell a bit more, kneeling next to her.  "I just want to talk.  I'm like you, a mutant."

The girl didn't respond.  That was puzzling.  Most of the time, they either denied it, or questioned it.  There was no look of calm bemusement.  Especially after she had been practically sobbing.  Jean got a good look at Miss Stratford's face.  Her eyes weren't puffy.  She didn't seem upset any longer, but instead, pleased.

How long has this girl known what she is? Jean found herself thinking.  Where the thought had come from, she couldn't guess.  But as she thought it, she knew she was close to something.  Maybe it was her telepathy.  Or just her intuition.  Sometimes, the two of them seemed so intertwined.  Something was off.

Jean moved to rise, silent warning bells sounding in her brain.  She needed to contact Scott.  The Professor . . .

Her world began to spin violently, pitching her to her knees as the waves of nausea began to overtake her.  She was helpless to stop it, panic and confusion washing over her.  Completely and utterly helpless.

--

            Scott was frowning.  He didn't like waiting.  After all, he was the leader of the team, right?  He shouldn't be just sitting here, waiting for something to happen.  It seemed like he did a lot of that during his time being an X-Men.  Especially when Jean was involved.  Most of their 'relationship' revolved around waiting for her.  She still hadn't really told him how she felt about him.  It drove Scott crazy.  She wasn't seeing Duncan anymore, and the concert had practically been a date, right?  Where did that leave them now?

            He shifted his weight, looking to his other two teammates.  Bobby was amusing himself by playing with the locator.  At least he was being quiet.  That was something.  Kurt was looking as anxious as Scott felt, gaze shifting constantly over the looming buses around them.  They were lucky security hadn't stumbled upon them yet.  Where were those guys, anyway?  One would think they'd do the job they were paid to do.

            BEEP!

            "Uh oh."

            Scott turned to glare at Bobby, who was looking at the device in his hands.  The little black locator was beeping, the screen had lit up with an array of colored lights, each blinking as well.  He'd been playing with it a few moments ago.  Hopefully, Drake hadn't broken the equipment the first time they used it.

            "Bobby . . ." Scott began.

            "I didn't do it!  I swear!"  The younger boy protested.  "This thing is going crazy. Wait!  It's picking up the presence of the X-Gene in nine individuals in the area."

            "Eight?"  With a BAMF!, Kurt was peering over Bobby's shoulder.  "There should only be the four of us, and that girl."

            "Yeah."

            "Did you break it?"

            "No!  I didn't do anything!  I swear!"

            "Well, you were playing with it!"

            "Stop arguing!"  Scott cut in.  "Let me see it."

            "Fine."  Bobby held the device out to him.  "Hey, wait.  It just stopped."

            "What?"

            Scott reached out to take the now unresponsive device, but a startled decidedly feminine cry sliced through the air. It was a voice that Scott knew well.  Jean!  And she was in trouble.  He turned in the direction the sound had come from.  His feet had already begun to move him in that direction.  Not bothering to wait for the others to follow, Scott sprinted around one of the buses.  Jean could be in trouble.

            A flicker of motion above him caught his attention.  He blinked, slowing only slightly.  Something struck him from behind, hitting him neatly between the shoulder blades.  The pain came in an instant with the unexpected viciousness of the blow and he tumbled to the ground, landing on his hands and knees.  The air whooshed from his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath.  His back hurt, badly.  Somewhere Kurt was shouting in German, but Scott couldn't really make out any of the words.  A pair of boots came into view, attached to tan colored fatigued pants, military issue.  He looked up, the muscles in his back screaming with the movement.

            She towered over him, hands on her hips.  Her short, spiky black hair was streaked with lavender highlights, and her dark eyes were positively glowing with malevolence.  The woman was like an Amazon, her biceps bulging visibly beneath the white shirt.  She was easily twice as muscular as Scott, and from his estimation, at least a foot taller.  God, she was huge!  And the grin she was giving him made his stomach curl.  She cracked her knuckles, pleased expression settled upon her features.  

            "Now, little boy, let's see what you got."

            Before he could force his body to move, she grabbed him by his hair, and yanked him upward.

***

            "I can't believe that you didn't totally tell me about this!"

            Kitty was squealing again.  She'd been squealing since before they'd left the mansion.  Now, as Rogue slammed the Jeep into park, she was beginning to seriously think about strangling her roommate.

            "Well, Ah told ya now."  She shut the van off.  "Now get out."

            Not that she'd had a choice.  Kitty wasn't stupid.  A bit ditzy at times, but not stupid.  When she'd seen the playing card, she'd become suspicious, and loud.  In order to keep her from screaming out  "GAMBIT ASKED YOU OUT?" more than once at the mansion, she'd resigned herself to taking Kitty to the movies.  She'd not only had to promise to spill every detail of their encounter, but also threaten to knock Kitty unconscious in order to avoid unpleasant confrontations with other residents at the Institute.  In return, Kitty didn't say another word about the package, or Gambit.  Until they got in the car.

            Now that they were at the theater, Rogue was beginning to wonder if that was the best course of action.  Getting out of the Jeep, she locked the doors, shoved the keys in her pocket, and started toward the building.  Kitty followed after her, rambling.  The nearest decent movie theater was in the next city over from Bayville.  They weren't as recognizable as mutants there.  It also meant the drive was longer, unfortunately.

            "I still can't believe you got Logan to let you borrow the Jeep."  Kitty commented.  "How'd ya do it?"

            Rogue smirked.  It had been rather easy, actually.  She'd mentioned that Kitty and herself wanted to go to the movies.  Logan had seemed grudgingly willing to drive them, until Rogue casually dropped the hint that if Logan when with them, Kitty would want to drive.  He'd dropped the keys into her hand and told her to go.

            "It was nothing."  She shrugged. 

            Kitty seemed to buy it, and immediately launched into another set of babbling.  This time revolving around the one thing Rogue didn't want to talk about it.  The Cajun.

            "That's soooo romantic, Rogue."  Kitty gushed for the fourth time.  

            She was wearing a baby blue halter top with a pair of shiny navy colored pants. Her make-up was light, but still apparent.  She'd insisted upon dressing up for the "Girl's Night Out."  And had made Rogue do the same.  Bribery was a bitch sometimes.  Of course, Rogue wasn't wearing anything Kitty picked out, opting for a mostly black ensemble.  Boots, burgundy tights, short black skirt, and fishnet shirt over a tank top.  She was never without her gloves.

            "Romantic?  What the hell are you on, Kit?"  She threw a glare at her friend.

            "Just think about it!  It's just like Romeo and Juliet."

            Where those hearts in Kitty's eyes?  Oh God, save her now.

            "Gee, that's really encouraging me to accept the invitation," Rogue grumbled.  "Tragic, unavoidable death."

            "You are going, aren't you?"  Kitty gasped.

            "Hell no."

            "But Rogue!"  She grabbed Rogue's fishnet garbed arm.  "You like, HAVE to go!"

            "Are ya insane?"  Jerking her arm out of Kitty's grip, Rogue continued marching toward the ticket booth.  "He's a bad guy, in case you've forgotten!"

            She didn't want to be here.  She didn't want to be having this conversation.  And she certainly didn't want to be thinking about Gambit at this particular moment.  She wasn't going.  And that was that.

            "So what?  Lance was a bad guy too," Kitty said dreamily.  "Sorta."

            "And look what happened," Rogue pointed out.

            Kitty pouted at her.  By this time, they'd reached the ticket line.  Since it was a Friday night, the crowd was thick.  They were lucky they'd left early.

            "What are we going to see?"

            "Oooh, I heard the new J-Lo movie is out!"

            "No."  Rogue's tone invited no argument.  She stared up at the marquee, the movies and times listed there.  "What about _28 Days Later_?"

            "Ewww!  Like, no way!"  Kitty wrinkled her nose.  "I am sooo not watching a zombie movie.  Not after Kurt and Evan made me sit through all three of those _Evil Dead_ movies!"

            Rogue grinned, remembering how terrified Kitty had been after watching the Evil Dead Trilogy. Especially after Kurt and Even had scared the bejeebus out of her with that mask and the fake Necronomicon.  The girl hadn't slept for three days afterwards, muttering to herself about zombies and chainsaws.

            "Fahne, we won't see that movie," Rogue relented, still peering up at the sign. "What are we gonna see then?"

            "I don't know."  Kitty was looking over the large crowd now, maybe trying to find someone from school.  There were quite a few teenagers in the crowd tonight.

            "This was your idea, ya know."

            "Oh my God!"  Kitty gasped, suddenly grabbing Rogue's arm to jerk her around. "Look!  That isn't who I think it is, is it??"

            Rogue looked where Kitty was pointing, and blinked.  There was a very familiar figure ambling across the sidewalk.  A very familiar, unwelcome figure.

            "You gotta be kidding me!"  Rogue grabbed Kitty and pushed her behind some people.  "Quick!  Hide!"

            The older couple the two teens were currently hiding behind just looked at them strangely.  Unfortunately, it was too late.  They had been spotted.

            "Hey!  I know you!"  The voice was loud, masculine, and accented. And heading in their direction.

            The gleeful yelling caused several heads to turn in their direction.  Before either of them could react to that booming statement, they'd been caught.  The grinning Australian was standing in front of them.  St. John Alleryce tilted his head to the side, regarding them both.

            "You're that girl with the hair."  He pointed to Rogue, and then turned to Kitty.  "And you walk through walls!"

            Rogue was torn between wanting to smack herself in the forehead and having the desire to smite the wicked Acolyte.  Of all the people to run into, they just had to run into an Acolyte.  Not just any Acolyte, like Sabretooth, who would just try to kill them and get it over with.  No, they had to find the especially unbalanced one.  Kitty just stared at him as if he had grown a second head.  Around them, people were beginning to gawk curiously as well. St. John grinned disarmingly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans.

            "So, what are you Sheilas doin' tonight?"  He asked, rocking on his heels.  "Out for a bit of fun?"

            "Huh?"

            "Want some company?"

            "Ah don't know what Magneto is planning, but it ain't gonna work."  Putting her hands on her hips, Rogue glared up at St. John.

            "Yeah!"  Kitty chipped in, boldly jabbing him sharply in the chest with her forefinger.  "What are you trying to pull anyway, Pyro?"

            St. John peered at them inquisitively for a moment.  He looked as if he didn't quite know what to make of their chatter.  Then understanding dawned on him.  Raising a finger to his lips, he shushed them.

            "Shh!  Don't just go around saying my name like that!"  Looking left, and then right, Pyro continued.  "I'm incognito at the moment, Luv.  So just John, will do."

            He winked at them conspiratorially.  

"You're what?"  Kitty exclaimed.

"Incognito!  You've no idea how boring it is being a lackey!"  St. John gave a tired sigh.  "They don't let me have any fun!"

Before either of them could respond to that bizarre comment, St. John had turned his head sharply, his eyes wide.

            "CRIKEY!"  He said entirely too loudly.  "Did ya see that guy?!  He better be her father!"

            It was impossible not to, as St. John was pointing at the man in question, an older gentlemen escorting a voluptuous woman half his age.  People around them averted their gaze from the strange red/blonde haired man to look as well.  As the sudden yelling and pointing by John, the man in question quickly removed his hand from the woman's backside, his cheeks flushed.  By the indignant glares upon both their faces as they entered the building and the man's hand placement, it wasn't his daughter. 

            "Isn't that illegal?"  John wondered aloud.

            Kitty and Rogue exchanged looks.

            "So much for incognito," Rogue muttered.

            "Is he like, always like this?" Kitty whispered out of the corner of her mouth, slowly edging away from the slightly insane Acolyte.

            "Ah'm afraid so."

            "So," St. John turned back to the two of them, looking as if nothing had happened.  "Are we seeing a movie?"

            "We?"

            St. John nodded amiably in response to Kitty's query.  Apparently, the Acolyte had decided to join them.  This was not good.  Rogue sighed.  It was going to be a long night.

---

_Not where I wanted to end it.  But this will have to do for now.  This chapter was supposed to have sooo much more fighting in it.  But no, St. John just HAS to show up.  Don't worry, all you people questioning the issue of The Date.  That will be addressed.  As soon as I can get through this.  Remy was even supposed to be in this chapter.  We'll just have to wait until next update._

_Now, the opposition arrives.  Not really a big secret who they are.  At least not to those familiar with the comics.  Once again, next chapter will explain things a bit more.  You are free to share comments/theories though.  Actually, that would make me quite happy._

Time for Shout Outs! Cookies all around!  I Luv you guys!  Want to give you great big hugs for supporting me this far!

**Lone Vixen** – That is just the kind of review that makes me squeal with glee, I gotta tell ya.  Thank you sooo much!  And tangents are fine, because I know EXACTLY how you feel on the Bobby/Rogue thing.  Silly movie people!

**Freaky Rogue** – Your wish is my command.  The next chapter should make you happy!

**bunny angel** – You are a girl after my own heart  ^.^  Remy just isn't used to failure, which makes him like Rogue, I think.  She doesn't roll over to his every whim.  I say make him grovel, but that is just me!

**Taineyah** – You're writing is excellent.  I adore your fic!  Don't let one bad review make you quit, especially not from a boy!  Ick.  They have cooties anyway, don't you know??

**Passionate Crow Rat** – Betsy is really badass.  I have this desire to see her in EVO, so I just wrote her in for my own amusement.  There will be much more of her to come, no worries there!  Ah, you are a Jean hater, eh?  Don't blame you.  In the show, she's such a snit!  You called Remy a cocky bastard!  I am giggling with glee now!  I like him that way, personally.  He's still young, not quite perfected his charm yet.

**Makura Koneko** -- I am melting all over just thinking about that quote!  Have now seen that movie 3 times, and not tired of it yet.  God, Jack Sparrow is sexy!  Watched Chocolat the other night with my friend.  You –have- seen that, yes?  I fall in love with that movie all over again, every time I see it.  Next chapter I am going to try to begin working in your fav pairing.  Maybe I should just give them their own story?

**Peachy-Poo**  -- Sorry you don't like my story.  What don't you like about Remy's actions?  Is he out of character somehow?  Any advice you have to offer would be appreciated!

**poopers** -- Whoohoo!  One cookie headed your way!  Romy is my personal favorite too.  They are just so adorable together!  As for Pyro, rawr!  I want one!

**Akuma-chan**  -- Don't die yet!!!  You have to read more!!

**Ariesque** --  Thank you!  I am really glad to hear that you like my pacing.  I know it can be a bit slow at times, but I just want to get a feel for the characters.  I just can't see her jumping into his arms and everything being peachy.  It's just not their personalities.  They thrive on conflict, if you ask my opinion.  I hope you continue reading, and reviewing.  Your insights are really helpful!

F**rEcHeSKaTzChEn** -- You liked my fight scene!  I am so happy!  Hope you like the next one too!

**Ishandahalf** – Darlin, you crack me up!  Seriously!  So much to answer in this one.  Okay, here goes!  (1)There will be more QUASI-Romy in the next chapter.  So stay tuned for that.  (2)I am a big advocate for Rogue having a personality that is Goth, instead of just acting it.  There are a lot of fics out there that have her gaining the power to touch, and dressing like Kitty or Jean.  That's just not Rogue.  She is unique!  Damn it!  (3)  Yes, Remy is doing it for the challenge right now.  After all, women just don't turn him down.  He's interested, and even attracted to her (she if female and hot, after all), but not desperately in love.  I am praying that this fic won't turn out to be the cliché Remy-seduces-Rogue-and-falls-for-her-and-she-gets-pissed.  That's just not my bag, baby.  But, she ain't gonna be happy ifshe finds out about Magneto, ya know. (4) Yay!  I got another Gold Star! You totally get a cookie!  One of those huge ones too!

Questions?  Comments?  Hate mail?

Push the button.  Send your Love.  Or Hate.


	9. Good Guys Always Win

_Welcome to Chapter 9.  This chapter has given me nothing but grief.  None of the characters wanted to behave.  They all had to do their own thing, which meant it took forever to write it all out. So, I apologize for the horridness of it.  But still, this is the second fight scene in this fic. It is by no means the last, nor the biggest.  I think this is my "turning point" chapter, so say hullo to the plot._

_Also would like to note that this chapter is HUGE.  Nearly twice as big as usual. That is part of the reason it took so long to come out.  The other is that I've been without internet access for a while as I'm in the process of moving.  So chapters will be coming out as soon as I have time to type._

Oh, and I simply must mention that I now adore Evo-verse Gambit, especially after watching both parts of Dark Horizon.  And yeah, I even like the accent, after I got used to it.  And Pyro was absolutely adorable in that psycho way of his!!  It was positively inspiring.  Happy reading.

---

**Gambit:**  "Looks to me like Rogue's up to no good.  But hey, I like that in a girl."

_[X-Men Evolution - Dark Horizon I]_

---

9/?

Had A Bad Day Again

ChaosCat

19 August 2003

---

            As his head was slammed against the unyielding side of the bus, Scott Summer, the X-Man know as Cyclops, wondered if this was becoming a trend.  At least he would have wondered this, if he had not been fighting the urge to slip into unconsciousness due to the overwhelming pain in his head.  They were supposed to be the good guys, right?  That would make the woman slamming his head against a bus the bad guy.  Weren't the good guys supposed to win?

            A swift punch his ribs brought him back to the situation at hand.  Had something cracked that time?  Fighting back a cry of pain, he dragged himself back to consciousness.  He didn't know where Kurt and Bobby were.  He didn't know what happened to Jean.  What she hurt?  Did she need help?  Scott did know, however, that the woman holding him suspended in the air, her fingers curled about his throat, was amazingly strong. And that he couldn't breath.  Black spots began to dance across his vision, framing the vicious features of the woman leering up at him.  His legs dangled helplessly.  Kicking her was like smacking a metal post.

            She winced minutely under her captive's desperate blows, but her grin grew wider still.  No normal woman could hold him above her head without breaking a sweat.  The flashing on Bobby's screen. Mutants.  She was a mutant.  But how had she been able to hide her presence?

            "What's wrong, pretty boy?"  She laughed.  "Am I too much for you?"

            He might have been able to come back with a witty retort had he not been fighting for air.  But even under the best of circumstances, it was doubtful.

            They'd fallen into a trap, and an obvious one at that.  How could he have been so stupid?  He was the team leader!  He was supposed to prevent things like this from happening, not walk right into the enemy's hands.  Scott wheezed, his fingers gripping the wrist of his captor.

            "Who are you?"  He managed a hoarse whisper.

            She grinned, her triceps bulging as she tightened her grip.  Scott's vision began to fade, black creeping into the edges, obscuring his view of the world.

            "Congratulations, Sweetheart.  You've just met the Marauders." The venom dripped from her honeyed tone.  "The name is Arclight.  Wonder if you'll be screaming it for me?"

            Arclight.  The name meant nothing to him now.  Marauders?  Who were they?  But if he lived through this encounter, it might be of use.  At the moment, however, living through this encounter seemed to be the most important thing.

            "Now, let's-"

            BAMF!

            Whatever Arclight had been about to say was cut off by the appearance of a blue furred demon.  Kurt, not without his hologram inducer, clung to Arclight's back, yanking roughly upon her hair.  The woman cursed as her head was jerked back, destroying her balance.  She grabbed at Nightcrawler, her free arm flailing.  The crawler's lithe form twisted deftly to avoid her grasping fingers.

            "_Ich denke nicht so_," Kurt admonished, clucking his tongue at her.

            Scott took the window of opportunity, kicking out at the tall woman.  The glancing blow to her kneecap caused her to stumble, losing her grip upon him as she did so.  He dropped to the ground, landing squarely on his backside.  It wasn't dignified, but at the moment, Scott just savored the ability to breathe unhindered.

            Nearby, Arclight cursed once more, finally grabbing Kurt by the collar of his uniform and flinging him away from her.  He flew back from the force of the toss, which had looked so effortlessly.  Kurt twisted in mid-air, much like a cat, and BAMF'ed promptly to avoid colliding with one of the parked vehicles.  He appeared beside Scott a second later, surrounded by his usual stench of brimstone.

            "Somehow, I don't think that this was part of ze plan, _Mein Freund_," Kurt remarked, helping a wobbly Scott to his feet.

            "Where's Bobby?"

            "He went to help Jean."

            The mutant calling herself Arclight turned back to them, chest heaving as a slow rage began to descend upon her features.  The veins on her exposed arms were prominent, enhancing the bulk of the muscles.  Her face flushed, she began to walk towards them, taking slow, deliberate steps.

            "You little shit," she snarled at Kurt.  "I'm going to-"

            Kurt didn't get the opportunity to learn exactly what Arclight was going to do.  Scot had determined that Arclight's little tirade was the perfect moment to release one of his optic blasts.  Being without his uniform, he wasn't wearing the visor than enabled to him control the force of the attack.  Lifting the ruby quartz glasses for a split second was ample time for the uninhibited red beam to engulf Arclight, illuminating her shocked features.  An enraged shrieked filled the air as the woman was thrown back.  Her bulky form slammed into a bus, and then went through it, leaving a heap of twisted metal in her wake.

            The two X-Men stared at the smoldering wreckage before them and the damaged vehicles beyond.  There was no sign of movement from beneath any of the trashed machinery.

            "_Mein Gott!_  I am not paying for that," Kurt finally declared.  He glanced over at Scott.  "Who was that?  And what is going on here?"

            "I don't know," Scott responded tersely.  His ribs were beginning to ache, but he pushed the pain aside for now.  "But we have to find the others!"

            'Hang on Jean,' Cyclops thought determinedly.  'I'm coming.'

***

            Jean Grey thought she was going to be sick.  She clutched at the ground, fingernails scraping the asphalt.  If only the ground would stop spinning beneath her, then she might have been able to rise from her most undignified position.  Bile rose in her throat, sickening her further.  The nausea was intense beyond anything she'd previously experienced.  It clung to her determinedly.  She couldn't stand.  Couldn't think.

            Closing her eyes, Jean tried to will the sick feelings away, desperate for that sense of calm.  She had to concentrate to use her telepathy.  To force this away.  Dimly, she could hear the girl giggling.  The sound was far too innocent to be coming from her lips.

            "What are you . . ." Jean choked back the urge to vomit. "… Doing to me?"

            She really didn't expect the girl to answer.  But she needed to do something, anything to distract herself from this horrible dizzy spell.  It made her feel horribly week.  Out of control in her own body.  She hated it.

            "Who?  Me?"  The blonde giggled merrily.  "Nothing really.  Why?  The little telepath feeling dizzy?"

            The girl knew she was a mutant, Jean thought hazily.  And the blonde even knew what her powers were.  This was bad.

            Jean couldn't hold it back anymore.  In seconds, she was emptying the contents of her stomach upon the pavement, unable to stop herself.  Once the vomiting had subsided, she dry-heaved wretchedly as the giggling blonde watched.

            "I'm told the fluid in your inner ear is responsible for your sense of balance.  Isn't it amazing that playing with such an itty bitty thing could cause so much trouble?"  The blonde remarked, sounded amazed herself at the knowledge.

            Gritting her teeth, Jean tried again to stand, only to have a new wave of nausea overtake her.  Helpless, she could do nothing but lie there, desperately praying for this to end.  She had to stay focused, that much she knew.  But it was impossible!  She couldn't access her powers like this!

            It seemed that luck would be in her favor at this moment.  She would not always be so lucky.

            There was a loud, feminine screech, invading her silent plea.

            The nausea just stopped. There was no period of slow subsiding.  It was there one moment, gone the next, leaving her a trembling, relieved mess upon the ground.  Raising her head through a veil of red hair, Jean soon located the source of her rescue.  The blonde was shrieking her head off, trying desperately to unstick her feet from the ground.  It didn't seem to be happening anytime soon.  From her toes to her knees, the girl was firmly encased in ice.  Limbs flailing, the blonde was obviously off balanced by the sudden attack, and had seemingly forgotten about them.

            Bobby Drake was by Jean's side then, helping her to her feet.

            "Are you okay, Jean?"  His voice was high with nervousness.  After all, he was the least experienced of them all.  Still, he'd been in a few combat situations and knew how to keep his cool.

            "I'm fine Bobby."  Regaining her balance, Jean gave him a grateful smile.  "Thank you."

            A sudden gust of wind blew her hair back, the intensity of it forcing her to shut her eyes.  Something sharp whizzed by her face, biting into the side of her cheek.  The shock caused her to cry out.  Her eyes snapped open in shock.  Bringing fingertips to the side of face, she felt the warm wetness that could only be just the faintest trickle of blood.  Instinctively, she turned into the gale, and the direction from which the attack had come from.

            A whirlwind engulfed form hurtled towards them, Jean's eyes widening at the sight.  Grabbing Bobby, she dove out of the way.  They fled to the side of a nearby bus, leaning against it as the cyclone passed their way.  Before her eyes, the wind died down, revealing a white haired youth, his long hair tangled around his face.  The boy could be no older than 12, and yet, his expression sent a stab of unease through Jean.  He grinned at them both with a look far too sadistic for his young years.

            "I don't think you should be celebrating just yet."  He warned, launching himself into the flurry of wind once more.

***

From her distant perch, a dark-garbed figure watched the battle.  She would not interfere.  Not for this operation.  She had her own part of the mission to complete.  It was the first time this particular group had worked together in the field and this mission was proving to be quite entertaining.

Her team was not doing as poorly as they could have, but still yet, they lacked a sense of teamwork.  Riptide had just joined the fray.  She would have to keep an eye upon the youngster; his sadistic streak would prove his undoing unless he could control himself.  Janos had a reputation for being slightly manic in combat simulations.  His mutation, however, made him an asset to the team.  Not only could he spin his body at high speeds, but he also possessed the ability to secrete tiny bone-like barbs from his flesh and fire them into an opponent.

Arclight had done her part as well.  The woman would need little time to recover, but should have no lingering injuries, one of the advantages to her mutation.

Flicking the thick braid of burgundy colored hair over her shoulder, she sneered.  Vertigo was a problem.  The girl was a sniveling mess.  The nausea causing mutant had done her part in the beginning well enough.  She'd put the telekinetic redhead out of commission for those few moments it took to get Riptide into position.  But she wasn't going to be much help in the battle now.  Pitiful.  Just pitiful.  Vertigo would have to be punished later.

            That thought perked her up considerably, as she was the one who would be doling out that punishment.

***

            "Kitty, we are not letting him come with us!"

            "Why not, Rogue?  He seems perfectly harmless."

            St. John did look rather harmless, hands stuffed into his pockets.  Without the goggles and flamethrower strapped to his back, he could easily pass as a perfectly normal college student.  His orangey-blonde hair was styled in a spiky erratic manner, sticking out all over.  His ears were pierced, she noted.  Tiny silver hoops dangled from the lobes, and trailed up the cartilage of his left ear.  He was sort of attractive, in that bad-guy-that-sets-stuff-on-fire kind of way.

            "Kitty, Ah know you're jokin', right?"

            "Rogue!  Stop causing a scene!"  Kitty hissed, lowering her voice meaningfully.

            She knew what Kitty was trying to avoid.  Mutants were not smiled upon anywhere anymore.  It was better to keep a low profile in public, which was one of the reasons they'd opted to going to this theater.  It wasn't in Bayville, where everyone knew them.

            "Ah am not causing a scene!"  Rogue protested.

            Kitty Pryde put her hands on her hips. She and Rogue glared at each other for a long moment.

            "We're going to be late for the movie if you two keep fighting," St. John commented innocently, tapping his wristwatch.

            Both of the girls turned to look at them, nearly identical glares on their faces.  They both even had their hands on their hips.  St. John grinned broadly, something he was good at.

            "Hey now, no reason to go bananas!"  He held up his hands, attempting to placate them.  "We're just picking a movie."

            "What exactly are you doin' here anyway?"  Rogue narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  "Spyin' on us?"

            St. John paused for a moment, looking utterly confused.  Then he promptly burst out in raucous laughter, nearly doubling over with it.  People were beginning to stare again.  Rogue was beginning to get used to it.

            "That's bonzer!"  He snorted.  "Why the hell would I want to spy on you Jillaroos?"

            "Because you work for Magneto," Rogue supplied testily.

            "Don't be saying his name!"  St. John admonished, looking around.  "He might show up!  I'm incognito, remember?"

            "Is your accent real?"  Kitty inquired.

            "I'm true blue, gal!  The dinki di!"  The Australian announced proudly, puffing himself up importantly.

            Kitty immediately burst into giggles.  Rogue had to stifle the smile beginning to creep onto her features.  His slang was close to indecipherable, and yet amusing all the same.  And that accent was outrageous.  St. John Allerdyce was certainly an interesting individual, for a completely psychotic mutant terrorist, that is.   He scratched the side of his nose, peering at Kitty curiously.  His crestfallen expression was apparent when he spoke again.

            "What's so funny, Jillaroo?"  He demanded.

            "Huh?"  Kitty blinked, looking over at Rogue.  "What did he just call me?"

            Rogue just shrugged.  Kitty turned, intent upon getting an answer out of him, but it was too late.  St. John had already bounded off.  He was leaning against the glass of the ticket booth, talking to the perky blonde inside.

            "Like, what kind of drugs is that guy on?"  Kitty whispered, watching St. John gesture expansively for a moment.

            "Ah don't know," Rogue admitted.  "But he needs Ritalin." 

            "For sure!"  Kitty giggled.

            "Come on, while he's distracted!"  Rogue grabbed Kitty's wrist with one gloved hand.

            She noted Kitty's involuntary flinch at the contact.  She should be used to it by now, the way they always flinched back from her, even though she wore amply layers of clothing.  Protecting them from her.  Protecting herself from her powers.  Brushing back the anxiousness flaring to life at the unfairness of it all, she pulled Kitty away from the front of the theater.

            "Hey!" Kitty practically yelled.  "What are you doing Rogue?"

            "We are leaving, while he's distracted by that girl's lip gloss," Rogue explained.

            "But like, why?"

            Rogue fought the urge to smack herself on the forehead once more.  Kitty was one of the smartest people she knew.  But why did the girl have to lack common sense?  She was beginning to wonder if she was the only X-Man with a brain.  Pulling Kitty along, hoping to get to the car

            "Because, Kitty, he's usually the bad guy.  We don't like ta play with the bad guys, do we?"

            "Rogue!"  Kitty whined.  "What is with you?  Since when did you turn into Scott?"

            Rogue pursed her lips.  That was a low blow, especially coming from Kitty.  Even if the girl did have a point.  Since when did she care about responsibility?  Since the current source of the argument happened to be on the same team as a certain unwanted admirer of hers.  That was when. 

            Kitty pulled away from Rogue, who didn't try to stop her.  She took two steps backwards, opening her mouth to scold Rogue once again.  And promptly ran into a brick wall.  At least it felt like a brick wall.  Except brick walls don't breath.  Letting out a startled shriek, Kitty whirled around.  Her nose bumped against one of the most muscular chests she'd ever seen, even covered by a shirt.  Her gaze slid up to meet the eyes of the other person, a slight gasp escaping her.

            "You!"  She squeaked.

            The giant of a man standing there looking bewildered was the same metal skinned Acolyte she and Scott had fought the previous week.  What was his name again?  Something about his size.  Colossus!  That was it.  Kitty stared up at him, forgetting how close they were for the moment.  Wow, was he cute or what?  That jaw line.  Those eyes.  And how could she forget the muscles?  What a hottie!  She took a few steps back, her gaze running up and down his frame.

            "Excuse me?"  The foreigner queried, his voice thick with some unidentified accent.  He didn't seem to remember her.  That could be a good thing, considering the circumstances of their last meeting.

            "Kitty!"  Rogue yelped as the girl stepped on her toes.

            The stranger looked up at Rogue, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognition.  Of course he remembered Rogue, Kitty thought with irritation.  With those white streaks in her hair, she stood out in a crowd.  Kitty knew she wasn't an exotic looking as any of the other females at the Institute.  Jean's long legs and natural red hair had boys wrapped around her finger with little more than a thought.  Amara was the princess of Nova Roma.  Tabitha's wild streak gave her the perfect bad girl persona.  And Rogue's tough as nails exterior coupled with her Goth look was the ultimate challenge.  Then there was plain old Kitty Pryde, the girl next door.

For a moment, the three mutants just looked at one another awkwardly, not quite sure what to do in this particular situation.

            "Hey mates!"  The silence was broken by the return of St. John, practically skipping back over to the two girls.  "How about seeing _Pirates of the_ -- -AAAH!  HIDE ME!"

            Catching sight of the larger Acolyte, St. John went into a panic.  He dove behind Kitty and Rogue, using them as a human shield between himself and the other man. Grabbing a hold of each of their shoulders, he dragged the two X-Men together and peeped between them.

            "Let go of me unless you wanna lose those fingers!"  Rogue snapped viciously, smacking his arm away from her with a growl.

            "Don't let him get me!"  John pleaded.

            Rogue turned to look at the bigger man, quirking a brow.  Kitty was giggling again.  She really couldn't help it.  She didn't mind looking at the big guy either.  The Acolyte just let out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders.

            "Comrade, your theatrics are drawing a scene." Colossus began.  "Again."

            "You'll never take me alive!" Sr. John declared, pointing at Colossus in a dramatic manner.  He paused for a moment, obviously thinking about something.  "How did you find me, anyway Petey?"

            Kitty blinked.  His name was Petey??  What sort of name was that for this muscular hunk standing before her?  He was far too handsome to be named Petey.  Oh, she shouldn't be thinking that sort of thing about the enemy.  Thank God Jean or the Professor weren't around.

            "Next time you run off, John, perhaps you should consider leaving the tracking device behind,"  'Petey' remarked blandly.  

"But I did!"  St. John protested.  

"And the one implanted in your lighter?"

"Damn it!  I KNEW I forgot something!"  St. John fished a silver butane lighter from the pocket of his jeans.  He scowled at it.

"I must inform our teammate that I have found you.  We have been searching the area for you for some time."  Pulling a small mobile phone from his pocket, he pushed a single button.  The entire phone conversation lasted half a minute and was in a tone too low for Kitty to understand.  Returning the phone to its original position, 'Petey' then turned his attention to the two girls.  "I apologize for my Comrade.  He does not get out much."

"Ah can see why," Rogue said dryly, watching St. John flick his lighter on.  Then off. Then on again.  The tiny flame transfixed his gaze, eyes wide with wonder.  But at least he was behaving, for a few minutes at least.

"See how horrible it is?"  St. John muttered just loud enough for the two girls to hear.  "They lock me up like some criminal!"

Kitty thought it best not to mention that John was, in actuality, a criminal.

"I never get to have any fun!"

The muscular mutant ignored St, John's rambling.  Instead, he continued speaking to the two X-Men.

"You are Rogue, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And I'm Kitty!"  The brunette subtly brushed past Rogue to stand in front of the larger man.  "Kitty Pryde."

"She walks through walls," St. John supplied helpfully.  

Out of the corner of her eye, Kitty saw Rogue smacked him in the back of the head.  The lanky Acolyte wrinkled his now at the Goth but did nothing in retaliation.

"Piotr Rasputin."  The infliction of his name was something deliciously exotic.  Kitty decided that she liked his accent quite a bit.

            "Is that Russian?"  Kitty inquired coyly about his last name.  From his pleased expression, she had guessed correctly.  Point for her.

            "Yes," was his only response.  Although his expression didn't seem quite as foreboding as it had a few moments ago.

            "Really?"  Kitty smiled brilliantly, her entire face lighting up.  "That's really cool!  What part of Russia are you from?"

            "Lake Baikal.  It is in Siberia." Piotr gave the girl a broad smile as he spoke, revealing just the hint of a dimple.

            "Oh."  Kitty blinked.  Although she was a computer whiz, her knowledge of geography was lacking.  She knew the general location of Siberia, but nothing more.

            "It is very rural," he remarked kindly.

            "Kitty, would you please stop ogling' the bad guy for a few minutes?"  Rogue snapped, her hands on her hips.

            Kitty whirled around to face her roommate, feeling heat creep into her flushed cheeks.  For a moment, she thought she might die of intense embarrassment.  But that would only encourage Rogue.  Revenge was a much better option.  

            "Oh PLEASE, Rogue!  I'm not the one that's like, making dates with one of them!"  Kitty proclaimed loudly.  "Or receiving presents from one."

            "Kitty!"  Rogue shrieked.  Even beneath those layers of make up, Kitty could still spot the telltale signs of a flush rising to her cheeks.  "For the last time, Ah am NOT going out on any dates with any bastard, cocky, egotistical ass of a Cajun!"

            Piotr and St. John just stared at Rogue after her outburst.  Kitty burst into giggles.  She just couldn't help herself.

            "Like, whatever Rogue!"

            "Cajun?"  St. John's face lit up.  "I don't believe it!  LeBeau is making the moves on you?"

            "Like Hell he is!"  Rogue growled.

            "Then does that mean I still have a chance, Sheila?"  St. John inquired slyly, throwing his arm around her and winking cheekily.

            Layers of clothing, thankfully, separated them. That didn't stop Rogue from growling at St. John before flinging his arm away from her.  Fighting back the automatic sense of panic at someone that close to her, she turned on him.  She whirled around to glare at him, growing even more exasperated as he was still grinning.  He was obviously very pleased with his joke.  Kitty giggled madly at the outraged look on her friend's face.  Then was promptly nudged by Piotr.  She looked up at him questioningly, only to have him nod his head meaningfully.  She turned to look in the direction. 

            Her eyebrows shot up at the sight, and a grin began creeping across her face.

            "Ah don't think so," Rogue responded.  She didn't seem as upset as before, more playful and seemingly engrossed in her mock argument with St. John.  Kitty realized she hadn't been paying attention to them, and tuned back into the conversation.

"Aww, please?"

"Not a chance."

"Not even a little?"

"That's even less of a possibility than that bayou wallowin' swamp rat sweeping me off mah feet."  She couldn't completely fight back the grin.  Something about the Australian put her at ease.  By now, they were both clearly teasing each other.  Rogue?  Being civil to someone?  Weird.

"But dat is a possibility, _oui Chere_?"  The sound of the voice caused Rogue to lose her smile.

Slowly, she turned around; dread and delight alternately coursing through her.  She met the red on black eyes without hesitation.  Who else could it have been? 

"_Bonjour_."

***

            Jean yanked the tiny projectile from where it had lodged into her upper arm, biting back a cry of pain.  She paused only a moment to examine it.  The grayish object resembled a shuriken, the edges of it sharp enough to pierce her flesh.  Except it wasn't metal.  Instead, it looked suspiciously like the bone protrusions that Evan had been able to produce, except while his had been spikes, these were razor edged and disc-like.

            She didn't have time to study it in now.  Throwing it aside, she instead concentrated on looking at her arm, which was now bleeding freely.  She'd have to tend to it later as well.  She was in no immediate danger of bleeding to death, but it was painful.  Bobby had bought her a few minutes, currently playing a deadly game of 'tag' with the spinning mutant.  The young X-Man was agile enough to avoid the projectiles being hurtled in his direction with ease, probably due to all those Danger Room sessions with Logan.

            Jean knew she had to move.  The blonde girl was still wailing like a banshee for the moment, lamenting her frozen legs, but Jean didn't know how long that would last.  She had no desire to end up at her mercy once again.  Why was she attacking them?  Reaching out with her telepathy, Jean attempted to probe the girl's mind, delicately flipping through the layers of panic and rage.

            _Vertigo_.

            That was the girl's name.  She was a mutant.  Aptly named, if her disorientation-causing mutation was any indication.  But that didn't answer her questions.  Jean needed to push further into the girl's mind to determine more, which she attempted.

            _Vertigo. . .mission . . Riptide. . .Marauders._

            She could only get snatches of thoughts.  Names.  Nothing concrete.  It was a slippery operation.  Jean was running up against a mental brick wall.  The girl shouldn't have been able to do that.  Only another telepath could have been able to do something like that.

Then she felt it.  The faintest glimmer of a presence outside of Vertigo.  There was someone else there.  The mind was too foreign and too strong to belong to either of the two mutants in front of her.

            It was another telepath.

            Her eyes widening, Jean reached out mentally, searching for that elusive strand of telepathy that would locate the other for her.  Leaning heavily against the side of a double-decker coach and holding her bleeding arm to her side, her gaze danced across her surroundings.  Suspicion was beginning to settle heavily in her gut.  She couldn't locate the other telepath's position, but she knew that the person was too close for comfort.  As she pushed her telepathy to the limit, something flickered from the other presence.  There were two thought patterns detectable, the second one much fainter than the first.  The two were connected somehow.  By something she could not define.  Then, inexplicably, there was a third.  Although this one was not like the other two.  It was similar to a psychic link, and yet not quite.  For a moment, she could have sworn there were two telepathic signatures instead of one, then in a blink, it was gone.

            Not knowing what else to do, Jean turned to the only person she knew could possibly hold the answers.

            ~Professor!~

***

            "You know, _Chere_," Remy drawled suggestively.  "I can 'tink of more interesting things for you to be doing with those lips den frowning at me.  Although most of those things involve me."

            "Bastard!"  Immediately enraged, Rogue tried to throw herself at the Cajun, ripping off one of her gloves in the process.

            Kitty, reacting mostly on instinct, grabbed Rogue by the arm, trying to pull her back.  Taking her lead, St. John grabbed the girl's other arm.  Together, the two of them were barely able to restrain her from ripping the Louisiana native's throat out.  Rogue growled at them both, clearly not happy about being stopped in mid-leap. As for Remy, he just stood there for a moment, watching her with the most amused expression upon his features.

            She certainly was riled up.  Who would have thought that the comment would have affected her so?  Of course, he had to admit that she looked cute when she was trying to kill him.  It really brought out the green in her eyes.  He just couldn't help himself.  Rogue was far too much fun to tease.

            She'd begun frowning at him the moment he'd arrived.  When Piotr had called to tell Remy that he'd found the Australian, Remy hadn't guessed he'd the little Southern Belle and her friend as well.  It was a pleasant surprise.  Somehow, he knew she'd gotten the present he'd sent her.  It didn't seem to have melted her cold exterior in the slightest.  He'd just have to try harder.  After he teased her a bit.

            "What can I say?" Remy turned to Piotr.  "De femme can't keep her hands off me."

            Rogue let out an inarticulate growl, redoubling her efforts to reach and possibly maim Remy.

            "Don't kill him, Rogue!"  Kitty squealed.

            "Yeah, mate!  You'll just have to clean up the mess!"  St. John chipped in.  He looked over at Kitty.  "I got ten on Rogue."

            "You think I'm betting against her?"  Kitty responded with a grunt, digging her heels in the ground to keep Rogue from dragging her along.  "Are you nuts?"

            "Easy there, _Chere_!"  Remy held his hands up, palms outstretched as a sign of peace. He supposed it was time to calm her down a bit.  "You might hurt yourself." 

            "Ah'd rather hurt you," she growled.

            However, she had stopped struggling against Kitty and St. John.  They looked at each other, and then, removed their hands from her at the same time.  Both looked ready to leap back into action if Rogue became hostile again.

            "Nah_, chere_, you don't wanna be doing dat."  He grinned.

            "Ah have a name.  Maybe you should think about using it," Rogue responded icily.

            "Why would I want to be doing that?"  He was teasing her now.  It was just too easy.  "You're _très mignon_ when you're angry."

            "Screw you."

            "Is dat any way to talk to de man who saved your life?"  Remy wagged a finger in front of her nose.  "What they be teaching you in that school, eh?  Non even a t'ank you?"

            Rogue's anger faltered, if only for a moment.  Remy could sense it in the way her eyes flickered.  She had beautiful eyes, he realized. They were so expressive.  While she kept the rest of herself covered, those eyes alone expressed the spitfire beneath.

Never attempt poetry, LeBeau, he reminded himself.  Not a good career move.  Still, how could he not help but notice her?  She was bewitching, to say the least.  Just as at the school, Remy found himself admiring her.  Any warm-blooded man would have done the same.  There was plenty to admire.  From the hint of creamy skin exposed at her stomach to the sparking fury of her emerald eyes, Rogue was enchanting.

"Thanks."

"What?"  Remy queried.  The sound of her soft voice, little more than a whisper, took him by surprise.

"Ah said thanks!"  Rogue clarified, a hint of irritation seeping through into her tone.  "Ya deaf as well as dumb?"

"You're very welcome." Remy grinned, the smile lighting up his handsome features.  She was full of surprises, wasn't she?  He hadn't expected that.  "How could I resist such an exquisite damsel in distress?"

As he spoke, Remy closed his fingers about her wrist, pulling her gloved hand to his lips and brushing his lips against the soft material.  She snatched her hand back swiftly, but the damage had already been done.  A faint blush crept along her cheeks, scantly noticeable beneath the layers of pale foundation and powder.  Although he had seen the effect on countless other women, on Rogue, he found it endearing.

So when she promptly jabbed him in the chest with one well-aimed finger and began lecturing, he fought to keep the smile from his face.

"Don't think that just because you buy me a flashy present and spout bad poetry at me Ah'm gonna fall into your arms and profess my undyin' love to ya!"  She began.  "'Cause that ain't happening in this lifetime!"

"A man can dream, can't he?"  Remy gave a little shrug of his shoulders.  This girl was something, wasn't she?  Nothing like the normal femmes that tripped over themselves to please him.  It was refreshing.  And yet, at the same time, incredibly annoying.

"You're impossible."

"And irresistible."

Rogue just gave him a disgusting look.  It was much less attractive than her previous smile.  That was something he'd kill to see.  One of her smiles.  He knew she was capable of it.  She'd smiled for St. John, who was a flaming idiot.  Why wouldn't she do the same for him?  And why did he care so much?

"Why not give dis _homme_ a chance, _Chere_?"

            "Because Ah don't trust ya."  Rogue paused before continuing hurriedly.  "And Ah'm not interested."

            Her words might have stung, if she had been speaking to anyone other than Gambit.  As it was, Remy only smiled.  Behind them, Kitty coughed conveniently, causing Rogue to glare at her momentarily.  The younger girl quickly turned, continuing her conversation with Piotr as though she hadn't been blatantly eavesdropping.  Cute kid, he had to admit.  St. John had drifted off, playing with his lighter gleefully.

            "You sure about dat, _Chere_?"  Remy tilted his head to the side, regarding her solemnly.  "What're you so afraid of, _fille_?"

            "Ain't afraid of you," Rogue sneered.  "If that's what you're trying to say."

            "Something like that," he admitted, reaching into the pocket of his coat for a cigarette. 

"Why can't ya just leave me alone?"

"Mebbe I like you, _chere_."  Putting the cigarette to his lips, Remy lit it effortlessly with a miniscule kinetic burst of energy.  It was one of the perks of his powers.  "Ever t'ink of that?  Or mebbe I just like punishment.  So, about dis date?"

"Ah told ya, Swamp Rat, Ah ain't interested."

"Lying don't suit you, Rogue."  Taking the cigarette from his lips, he leaned in closer to her, his voice no more than a whisper. "Try again."

She looked up at him, her emerald eyes narrowing in suspicion.  He caught her gaze with his own red on black eyes and held it.  For a moment, they just stared at each other; his expression encouraging, hers slowly softening from that initial suspicion and scorn.  Such a pretty girl beneath those layers of mistrust hardened by betrayal.  If only she would smile.  Their eyes spoke volumes to each other without words.  Silently, he compelled her to speak.

"What do you want from me?"  She asked softly.

Their faces were very close, Remy realized.  Close enough for this thief to steal a kiss.  That urge is suppressed, although just barely, at the thought of slipping into a coma afterwards.  Would it be worth it?  Perhaps, if only Rogue wouldn't also be taking his memories as well as his powers.  

            "Just a chance," he responded, his voice just as soft.

            "Ah can't."

            "You're lyin' again, _p'tite_," he chastised, flicking the white streak of her hair playfully.  "You that scared of Remy?"

            "Ah am not!"  She jerked back slightly, glaring up at him.  It did not go unnoticed, however, that her gaze carried much less venom in it then it had previously. 

            "Are so."  The corners of his lips quirked upward into a smile.

            "Am not!"

            "Are so, _chere_."

            "Ah am not!"  Rogue stomped her foot, her eyes crackling with irritation.

            Quite unexpectedly, he laughed.  It was a genuinely happy sound, something rare for the mysterious New Orleans born thief.  The look on Rogue's face was so intense, he just couldn't help it.  Here he was, suave Remy LeBeau, resorting to three-year old argument tactics with the girl he was trying to seduce.  The laughter took him by surprise, and from the expression on Rogue's face, she hadn't been expecting it either.

            "What's so funny, Cajun?"

            Behind them, a cell phone began ringing.  Remy ignored the sound, concentrating on the girl in front of him.  After taking another drag on his cigarette, he smiled.

            "Nothing, _chere_."  He shook his head.  "So, see you at seven tomorrow night?"

            "You never give up, do you?"

            "_Non_."

            Rogue opened her mouth to speak.  Remy knew he had her.  She wouldn't refuse his invitation now. That thought pleased him very much.

            "Rogue!"  Kitty's wide-eyed figure came into view, clutching her cell phone.  "Rogue!  We've got to go!  There's an emergency at the Mansion."

***

Professor Charles Xavier responded immediately to Jean's panicked mental call.  Linking their minds was done far quicker than any telephone call in existence.  Within ten seconds, he had the entirety of their situation recorded into his mind.  His brows furrowing, he analyzed the data while continuing the psychic rapport with his prize student.

            His X-Men were in trouble.  He'd informed Hank and Ororo, who were to leave immediately to help the students.  They seemed to be handling themselves quite well despite the obvious trap they'd gotten themselves into.  But then, he had expected nothing less from them.  There were a few minor injuries, but nothing major.  Yet.  It was their adversaries that had him concerned.

How could a group of Alpha level mutants have escaped Cerebro's notice?  The very idea was almost frightening.  Cerebro should have detected all of them, not just Vertigo.  The fact that these others escaped his attention was baffling.  Charles Xavier was not the sort of man to jump to conclusions, but something was amiss.  

Suspicion began to take hold in the back of his mind.  What sort of person had the capacity and technology to mask such a group?  It couldn't possibly be.  Yet Jean had sensed the presence of two telepaths, if just briefly, instead of one.  That alone suggested volumes.

~Jean.  I need your assistance.~

***

            "Jean!"  

Scott Summers was by her side in an instant, his gaze riveted upon her wounded arm.  She was bleeding, the dark liquid staining her the blue of her sweater.  He was both infuriated and concerned in that single moment.  He'd found her as quickly as he could, but not soon enough to have avoided her injury.  Scott was so concerned about her that he didn't notice her condition immediately.

Her eyes were glazed, staring at something he couldn't see beyond the battle now being waged between Kurt and Bobby against the living whirlwind.  The two X-Men were winning for the moment, keeping the sadistic mutant at bay.  As for the green and blonde haired girl, she was currently lying on the asphalt, unconscious. 

Jean was using her telepathy, he realized absently.  Her unresponsiveness could easily be linked to that.  His hand dropped from her arm, hoping he hadn't interrupted her concentration too badly.  But he needed to see to her arm.

"Jean?"

"I'm fine Scott.  Storm is coming to assist us now.  In the meantime, the Professor and I are attempting to determine the identity of our adversaries," she answered in his mind, focusing just a tiny fraction of her mental energy to respond to him.

Scott just nodded.  He knew little about how the mind of a psychic worked.  He'd learned some of his knowledge from the Professor, and bit from Jean.  They had linked their minds.  In such an instance, the Professor could use Jean's power as a boost of sorts, to increase his own extrasensory range in order to encompass a broader area.  In this case, his telepathy was active in Maine even when he was a state away, without using Cerebro.

He returned his attention to her arm.  The gash was long and deep, and they'd be lucky if it wasn't infected.  Bits of asphalt had somehow gotten into the wound.

Jean gasped, and Scott immediately pulled back, afraid he had hurt her.

"Jean?"

"No!"  She cried, both hands going to her head.

***

            Jean Grey was in agony.  She clutched her head desperately, trying to force the intruder out.  Her mind was being invaded by a presence so strong, so vengeful it was slowly overwhelming the mental barriers she and Xavier had so carefully constructed.

            Together, she and Xavier had been able to find the 

            ~Professor~  She cried out mentally, searching desperately for their link.

            "Jean!"  Absently, she heard Scott calling her name, but she couldn't answer him.  Not now.

            ~Hello Charles.~  The new voice was cold, seeping through her brain like ice sliding down her back.  In her mind, Jean caught a glimpse of a man, or something like it.  Alabaster skin glistened in darkness.  Lips curled back into an emotionless sneer.  Eyes glittering with cold, focused hatred.   ~I've been expecting you.~

Her nervous system spasmed, sending pain down her spine.  Her brain was exploding.  It was the only way she could possibly be experiencing this much pain.  Fire burned beneath her eyelids, searing her mind beyond all reason.  Screaming in anguish, she collapsed.

***

            Scott caught her in his arms, lowering her gently until they were both on the ground.  A sense of panic was beginning to overtake him.  Oh God, no. What was wrong with her?

            "Jean!?"

            "No!"  The redhead shrieked, digging her fingers into her scalp.  She shook her head vehemently, eyes squeezed as tightly shut as they could go.  "NO!"

            "Jean!  What's happening??"

            "Stop!  STOP!"  Jean shrieked, convulsing in his arms.

            "Jean!  Jean!  Snap out of it!"  Scott tried to restrain her.  She was going to hurt herself.  What was happening?  What was going on here?

            "Scott!"  The voice that came from Jean's lips was not her own.  Scott started at the sound of it.  It couldn't be."

            "Professor?"

            "Scott.  You've got to. . .get out of here!"  The Professor demanded from Jean's lips.  "Take Jean …Retreat …"

            "What's happening Professor?"

            "Go now!  I can't … No!  Nathaniel … You cannot-" The words abruptly ended as Jean let out a horrible high-pitched scream.  It was the sound of a dying animal, fighting desperately to stay alive.  And it was Jean's voice.  Her body went rigid in his arms.  Scott forgot to breathe, to think.  He could only watch in horror as Jean convulsed, blood dripping from her nose and from the corners of her eyes.  He felt utterly helpless, unable to do anything to save her.

            In an instant, it was over.  She slipped into unconsciousness, leaving a terrified Scott clinging to her limp form desperately.

---

_I'm exhausted.  Verily.  This chapter took a lot out of me.  And it took a bloody long time to type out.  That wasn't confusing, was it?  Stay tuned for Chapter Ten: The Aftermath, in which we discover a wee bit more about our villains.  And what happens to our heroes.  Oh, and there is brooding all around.  Big surprise there.  That chapter is probably going to be much shorter than this one.  So expect it soon._

_Haven't time to respond to reviews this time around, unfortunately. Want to post this while I've got access to FF.Net.  However, I will make up for it next chapter!  I promise!  I [heart] all you people who take the time to review my fic!  Thanks a bunch!_

Questions?  Comments?  Hatemail?  Click the button!!


	10. Interlude

It's late.  I'm horrid.  I know.  Enjoy anyway!

--------------

10/? -- Interludes

Had A Bad Day Again

ChaosCat

4 October 2003

-------------

The redhead levitated herself off the ground, using an impressive display of telekinetic to fling Riptide away from her.  The fair skinned youth bounced off the pavement a few yards away.  

Out of the entire team, it was the youngest of them, Riptide, which showed the least amount of restraint.  His sadistic tendencies would have to be curbed in order to increase his effectiveness in battle.  The boy's mutation had surfaced early, giving him the ability to spin his body at an incredibly fast rate while secreting calcium fortified bone shurikens through his skin and hurl them with enough force to shatter concrete.  It was a deadly combination.

However, it was the redhead, Jean Grey, that possessed even more impressive abilities.  Although she seemed to be using her telekinesis primarily on a defensive basis, the potential for an offensive assault was apparent to the trained eye.  She was truly stunning creature with that red hair and those green eyes.  The perfect blend of genetics.

Another of the combatants stepped into view.  Ruby quartz glasses slightly askew, this was the team leader, Scott Summers.  Cyclops.  With a tilt of his glasses, a blazing red streak burst from his eyes.  There was enough power there to level a mountain, if properly harnessed.  Yet another intriguing specimen.

The tape of the battle paused, leaving the audience with a view of the two senior members of that elusive mutant group called The X-Men.  Frozen in action as they were, it was impossible not to see the power at their disposal.

"Fascinating."

The clinically detached voice could have been talking about something as bland as the weather.  The speaker leaned back in his chair, peering at the two mutants on the screen before him.  In the darkened office, the shadows played along his features, emphasizing the paleness of his skin and sharpness of his chin.  The doctor had discarded the lab-coat for the moment, opting for a simple button-down shirt and black slacks.  

"Indeed."  The perfectly cultured, slightly British purr could have only one owner.  

She smiled, running fingers through her long silky burgundy mane.  The smile was not an entirely pleasant one, although any expression would look lovely upon those features.  Betsy Braddock had been a model in her younger years, before she joined S.T.R.I.K.E. and taken on that ridiculous codename "Psylocke." Despite the training that the woman had received, she'd been rather simple to corrupt.  And once she was corrupted, Malice had made herself quite at home.

The knockout figure had stayed with Betsy, only enhanced with the physical training she'd received as one of S.T.R.I.K.E's operatives.  But then, the Doctor always chose the best specimens to be her hosts, didn't he?  From behind Betsy's eyes, Malice smiled.

"Everything went according to your orders," she continued.  "The operation went smoothly."

            "And the operatives?" 

Psylocke/Malice straightened slightly, now on her guard.  The doctor never asked questions unless they had a purpose.  If her answer wasn't to his satisfaction, she might soon find herself upon the cutting table.  Then she'd find herself in need of a new host body.  She'd grown rather attached to this one.

"Beta team performed as well as to be expected."  Choosing her words carefully, she pressed onward.  "However, it is my belief that – "

"They lack efficiency."

"Doctor?"  She was not surprised with his judgment.  She had known the misfit group of mutants were lacking.  With the exception of Arclight, the brawny female street punk, none of the members of Beta Team had seen combat before.  That was apparent from the way they had handled themselves in the field.

"Remove Beta Team from fieldwork for the time being.  They require additional training.  And perhaps a bit of tweaking."

Malice only nodded.  She knew the 'tweaking' he referred to was undoubtedly unpleasant.  Perhaps, if she were lucky, he'd let her watch.  That was a tantalizing thought.  

On her own, Malice was little more than an incorporeal virus.  However, when she infected a host, not only did she gain control of the body, but also the memories, thoughts, and abilities that the host possessed.  With her empathic abilities enhanced by having a host body with telepathic abilities, she relished experiencing the pain of others.  From where she was imprisoned deeply within her own mind, the psyche of Betsy always found these experiences horrifying.  Perhaps that was part of the reason Malice enjoyed them so much.

"Riptide is out of control.  Unless I am able to curb his self-destructive impulses, he shall have to be scrapped."  He was talking to her now.  She knew better than to think him speaking to himself.  The Doctor said nothing unless he wanted it to be heard.  "Vertigo is useless without the element of surprise.  Intensify her combat training immediately."

"Certainly."  Malice/Psylocke purred.  "To their credit, they were able to hold the X-Men into position long enough for me to brush past the psychic's shields."

"You did well, Malice."  His voice conveyed no compassion to go along with the praise however.  It was much as one would speak to an animal that one wasn't convinced could comprehend the words.  "I don't believe Charles Xavier will be a problem in the near future."

Malice/Psylocke smirked.  "Then we shall continue on schedule?"

"When Alpha Team returns from their assignment, yes."  The doctor steepled his hands, tapping forefingers together in thought.  "I will require all my Marauders for this task."

Tilting her head to the side, Malice frowned, her 'borrowed' telepathy picking up the signature of another, approaching the lab.

"Graydon Creed is here to see you."  She didn't bother hiding her distaste for the man.

"Ah yes, Mr. Creed."  The doctor smiled.  "I have been expecting him."

"I see."  Malice only scowled.

"Is there something you want to say, Malice?"  He raised a brow at her.

"Why do you insist upon using him, Doctor?"  She inquired.  "The man is an insect."

"Indeed he is.  However, he is an insect with money."  The doctor replied blandly.  "An insect that remains useful to me, for now."

"I see."

"Show him in, Ms. Braddock."

"As you wish, Dr. Essex."

-------------------

            Studying the playing card in his hand, Remy LeBeau frowned.  It was the Queen of Hearts.  How ironic.  Wordlessly, he gave the card the tiniest bit of charge.  The kinetic energy flickered, surrounding the paper with a yellowish glow.  Once it was charged to his satisfaction, Remy flicked it away from him.  The playing card fluttered through the air lazily before landing squarely within the small metal trashcan.  There was a flash followed by a bang as the tiny explosion put another ding in the side of the can.  Usually this particular exercise helped calm his nerves.  On this Monday afternoon, however, Remy was in an exceptionally foul mood.  The source of this irritability was easy to discover, if one knew the source.

            He'd been stood up.

            He'd waited in that restaurant for two hours.  Waiting for that auburn haired vixen to show up.  Rogue had never shown.  He was left sitting at the table for most of his Saturday night. And he still could not quite believe it.

            He'd been stood up.

            Was that possible?  It'd never happened to him before.  How could one girl withstand his charms to such a degree?  Granted, he hadn't his charm power on her, not after the first time they'd met.  It was of a challenge that way.  Remy Lebeau didn't need to use his mutant abilities to get women.  He had been certain she would accept his offer.  Especially after Friday night when they'd met at the theater.  That had been a spot of luck, hadn't it?  Of all nights for St. John to wander off.  And of all places for him to wander to.  

            Rogue hadn't shown.  

It was a severe blow to his ego.  He had thought the girl liked him.  She'd certainly seemed friendlier to him last night.  After she had initially tried to kill him that was.  It wasn't as if he was stalking her or anything.  He'd only been doing as he was told.  Magneto had ordered him to keep an eye on her, after all.  Although Remy wasn't entirely certain why.  Magneto never told anyone his plans.

So Remy was only doing his job.  And having a bit of fun in the process.  He could admit that to himself.  He hadn't objected to the task, once the Master of Magnetism had assigned it to him.  The femme was attractive; there was no denying that.  And with those powers of hers.  Well, the opportunity was too much for the thief in him to pass up.  She was just another passing amusement to be conquered.  

Then why couldn't he banish the sight of those big gray-green eyes of hers?  The way she had looked up at him that night.  Like a little stray kitten, so tired of being kicked and abused and yet too stubborn to ask for help.  Yet hoping that someone would.  There was something within that cold façade she tried so hard to erect that made him want to take care of her.  To make her laugh.

He snorted, flicking another of the charged playing cards lazily into the trashcan.  Who was he kidding?  He was a thief.  Nothing more than that.  He hadn't been anything better since he'd left New Orleans, no matter what he might want to believe.

"Going soft, Lebeau," he muttered aloud.  "Going soft."

            His thoughts were put on hold as footsteps echoed down the hall.  From the sounds of it, St. John and Piotr had returned.  The Russian's stride was hard to miss, his footsteps heavy and measured.  St. John strutted a bit, his jaunty walk echoed in the sound of his steps.

            "The lesson for today, Tovarisch?  Next time your extremely weight teammate is doing reconnaissance on an icy precipice . . .do not leap on his back and yell 'Chicken fight!'" 

            "Jeez, if I ever see an icy precipice again, it'll be too soon!"  St. John grumbled, blithely ignoring his comrade's warning.  "Freezing my arse off ain't my idea of reconnaissance."

            As the two Acolytes passed the doorway, St. John paused, popping his head in, unruly hair (Remy wasn't entirely certain what color it was supposed to be) sticking out in all directions beneath the navy toboggan.  He grinned in typical St. John fashion, which made him look slightly manic.  That wasn't too far off base.  Granted, St. John was eccentric without his lighter, but when he was burning stuff, he was even more unbalanced.

            "Still brooding?"

            "Gambit doesn't brood."  Remy didn't bother look at him.

            "That's what I thought."

            "Is Gambit still brooding?"  That was from Piotr, whose massive frame was now filling most of the doorway.

            "Non."

            "Sure is."  St. John nodded sagely.  "Looks like women troubles to me."

            "I agree."

            "Listen, hommes-"

            "You can always tell when I fella's got woman troubles."

            "I do not doubt it."  Piotr was clearly humoring the Australian.

            "I had this one mate who had this ex-girlfriend-"

            "Hommes."  Remy sighed.

            "-and was she ever hot!"

            "Oh?"  Piotr raised a brow.

            "Boys.."

            "Too bad she was completely bonkers!  Let me tell ya!"  St. John shook his head, looking up at Piotr.  "Women aren't nothing but trouble, mate!  Let me tell you about the time - "

            St. John found his 'pep-talk' put on hold by the crackling playing card that fluttered between the two of them.  The card spiraled lazily towards the ground.  The Australian blinked, and then looked up at Piotr.

            "Uh oh." 

            The two men scrambled out of range just as the card hit the ground, and exploded in a flash of yellow energy, blinding them for just a moment.  The card did no damage other than be a general annoyance.  By the time they'd regrouped enough to take another look into the study Gambit was gone.

            "I hate it when he does that."

----------------

            It had been raining for the past three days.  Lightning crashed against the dark backdrop of the night sky periodically.  The storm had been quelled some from its initial fury, when people had feared a hurricane, practically unheard of in this part of the country.  The Bayville weatherman was at a loss as to the cause.  But of course, he'd never seen the tears of a Goddess, even if she was a mortal one.

            Rogue sat on the front porch, the wind rocking the porch swing back and forth slowly. She'd sat in that house until she could bear it no longer.  It was stifling, constricting with the nearly tangible layers of grief and panic that had begun to descend upon the Institute.  Then she'd retreated.  To sit on the porch and pretend that Kitty wasn't upstairs crying, even though the girl had no tears left to cry.  Pretend that Scott wasn't still sitting in the med-lab, waiting desolately for some sort of news.  Ignore the bleak helplessness on Ororo's face every time she passed the woman.  Pretend that the Professor and Jean weren't lying downstairs, looking so pale.  Dead but for the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests.

            The southern girl ran a hand through her short auburn hair, letting out a sigh.  By the time she and Kitty had made it back to the Institute, they'd found it in chaos.  Logan had beaten them back in the X-Jet with the others in tow.  Jean had collapsed.  The other three were wounded.  And the Professor . . .

            He had been screaming she'd been told.  Logan hadn't given her the details, but he'd said enough.  The Professor had been screaming so horribly that at first, no one had known what the sound was.  Ororo had been the first to find him.  Storm had burst through the door of his study, ready to face some dreadful enemy attacking the Professor.  What she had discovered was far worse.  He'd been in the middle of a seizure, limbs flailing wildly and spouting odd, disjointed bits of speech. They thought he was trying to speak to Scott.  Logan had arrived soon after.  Together the two of them had managed to keep the kids out of the room and attempt to help him best they could.  Then, Logan had taken the Jet out to find the others.  He hadn't reached them a moment too soon.

            That had been four days ago.  Neither he nor Jean had regained consciousness yet, although their conditions had stabilized.  Everyone was starting to get nervous now.   Rogue could practically feel the tension rising within the Institute.  They hadn't a clue as to what had happened to the Professor, only that it seemed to be linked to Jean's current condition.  Of the mysterious mutants who had attacked them, there was no sign.  The mansion had been on full alert since the incident, but it was too late to help the Professor and Jean.  

Mr. McCoy had done all he could for them and they had still shown no signs of awakening.  They'd scarcely been breathing when they'd first been brought in.  He had gotten them stabilized, but now he was at a loss.  They had no physical trauma to speak of.  He had found it most perplexing.  Without a psychic, they had no hopes of reaching either of them.  Now it seemed there was nothing left to do but wait, as agonizing as that was.  No one was certain that the two of them would wake up at all, as frightening as that prospect was.

Scott hadn't left the med-lab since Friday night.  He just sat there, next to Jean's bed.  Kitty and Rogue had alternated bringing him food and begging him to sleep.  He'd thanked them with a certain bleakness in his voice, and yet refused to leave her side. The look on his face was utterly heartbreaking.  He really loved her.  Rogue knew that now.  It was more than some silly school crush.  Anyone who just looked at him could tell that.  All Rogue's hopes that perhaps someday he would look at her like that were shattered with just a simple glance. 

She'd always known that, hadn't she?  Scott was far beyond her reach.  Maybe that is why she liked in him the first place.  He was sweet if a bit stuffy at times, and his faith in people was unshakable.  He hadn't given up on her, had he, even after Mystique had tried to kill them both on that field trip.  After all, what was she?  A lonely little Goth girl with poison skin.  A freak among freaks.  Rogue frowned, realizing that she was just feeling sorry for herself.  She couldn't afford to do that right now.  Not with everything going to hell in a hand basket. 

Chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully, Rogue was so caught up in "what if" thoughts that she didn't hear the front door open.  The sound of the door slamming shut made her jump visibly.  She turned toward the sound, brushing her mussed hair from her face as the smell of a freshly lit cigar registered in her brain.

Decked out in faded denim jeans and a cowboy hat, Logan chewed the end of his cigar pensively.  He grunted at Rogue in greeting, giving a slight nod of the head.  The hat was tilted at an almost jaunty angle, Logan's wild black hair sticking out from beneath.  He was even wearing the leather jacket, wasn't he?  The sight of him made her fight to keep a smile from crossing her face.  She watched him stalk across the porch.  The stocky man didn't walk, he definitely stalked from one place to another.  He reminded her of some massive predatory animal.

"Going somewhere, Cowboy?"

He paused, giving her an odd look.  Smoke from the cigar wafted around his head.

"Yea."  His voice was gravelly.  "Out."

Logan turned, walking off once more.

"Oh" was Rogue's only reply.  She couldn't help but be slightly disappointed at his cold tone.  Of course, Logan wasn't really friendly with anyone unless someone forced him to be.  

She looked down at her shoes.  The sneakers were beginning to show some signs of wear, she noted with disinterest.  Logan was leaving again.  It struck her as odd that he was leaving through the front door.  It would have been quicker to leave through the garage.  He never told any of them where he went.  Rogue often wondered if he even told the Professor or Storm.  Somehow she doubted it.  She wished that she could just get up and leave sometimes.  Just forget school and her responsibilities and go.  But she had nowhere to go to.  Mississippi was no longer home.  She'd burned that bridge when she'd left Mystique, hadn't she?  It still hurt, thinking of Irene.  She'd known who Mystique was and what the woman really wanted and yet hadn't warned her.  It hurt a lot.

She wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.  With the current events as they were, Storm and Beast had initiated the order that none of the students leave the grounds.  It was for their own protection.  Rogue knew that.  That didn't mean she had to like it.

Logan cleared his throat.

Rogue jerked her head up, surprised that he was still here.  She looked at him blankly for a moment.  He exhaled sharply, the sound suspiciously like a growl, and looked at her meaningfully

"Jesus, Kid.  You look like someone kicked your puppy."

"Huh?"

"Well, Stripes.  You coming or not?"

"What?"

"You staying here to mope like the rest of the place?  Or you going with me?"

There really wasn't any decision to make.  Rogue pulled herself off the swing and was down the steps in record time.  Logan looked down at her, raising a bushy eyebrow.  Then he turned and started toward the garage.

"What about curfew?"  She queried.  She didn't find it odd that her first question wasn't where they were going.  Logan probably wouldn't tell her that anyway.

Logan just snorted depreciatively, not bothering to answer her.  Obviously, he didn't care much for that rule.  Rogue smiled despite herself, now knowing why he'd chosen to leave via the front door.  

---------------

            Jean was floating in the darkness.  She didn't know how long she'd been there, nor how she'd arrived at such a strange place.  There was no fear within her, only a sense of calm.  She was complete in a way she'd never experienced before.

            Yet the calm did not answer the questions slowly rising to the surface of her thoughts.  They were jumbled, chaotic.  She pushed them down for the moment, merely enjoying the peaceful waves lapping over her.  She liked it here.  It was nice.

             But where was here?  

            Jean wasn't entirely sure.  Her memories were hazy.  It felt as if there were something that had happened a long time ago that she should remember.  It niggled at the back of her mind, demanding attention.  She knew instinctively that she could only stay here for so long.  There was somewhere else she needed to be.  Things that needed doing.  Scott would know.  He always knew what - Scott!

            The world suddenly came sharply into focus, color and light exploding around her.  Jean stumbled, falling to her knees.  The impact was much less painful that she might as expected, as she had fallen into a plush carpet of grass.  Jean blinked, looking up.

            She was sitting in the middle of a soccer field.  Not just any soccer field, but the one at Bayville High.  She ought to know it, considering how many hours she'd spent practicing on this very same field.    How on Earth had she gotten here of all places?

            _Jean._

            She jerked her head up, looking for the source of the voice.

            _Don't be alarmed._

            She knew that voice.

            "Professor?"

            _Hello, Jean._

            Jean rose to her feet, looking around.  There was no sign of Xavier.  She was still in uniform, she noted absently.  How long had it been since the battle?  She remembered the blonde girl with the strange green streaks in her hair.  And the spinning boy with the spikes.  There had been someone else.  Someone hiding.  She'd reached out to locate them . . . and then there was only pain.  So much pain she couldn't breathe.  Couldn't think.  Now she was here.

            "Professor?  Where am I?"

That isn't an easy question to answer, Jean.  After the attack on your psyche, your mind was thrown from your physical form.  Your telepathy has become so highly evolved that instead of dying, your mind projected itself outward to the astral plane. In effect, your mind has separated from your body.

Jean listened attentively, beginning to feel a little uneasy.

To accomplish such a feat at such a young age is astounding, Jean.  I'd always known you'd be capable of it, but I hadn't thought it would happen this soon.  Consider this an out of body experience, if you will.  For now, you are safe here, but I cannot determine the effects it will have on your psyche if you remain here indefinitely.

"How do I get back?"

It won't be easy, as this is your first time.  However, I believe I can help.

"Why can't I see you, Professor?"

My situation is a bit more complicated.

"What's wrong?"

I haven't much time to explain, Jean.  But you must listen carefully.  Once you've reached consciousness again, you will no longer be able to communicate with me.  I've much to tell you and time is of the essence.

--------

Whew.  Realize that was short.  But hey, had to get –something- out for you folks  ^.^   This was an interlude of sorts, before the action picks up again.  Next chapter should have a bit more fun in it.  Hopefully.  Yes, all things will eventually be explained, including what is up with Jean and the Professor.  But we got to see the villain finally, even if everyone already knew who it was  ^.^  You guys are so clever.

As stated before, none of the characters I am using are mine.  They all belong to Marvel.  I just hope I did a good job with the Marauders  (what few of them I've used thus far).

This chapter is out today because Cajun Spice aired today.  Remy/Rogue, and even Pyro fans rejoice!!  Why is this chapter so late?  Well, a combination of a broken computer and writers block would just about do it.  Hopefully am back on track for the next chapter.  But suggestions are always helpful!

Now for the Shout-Outs!

Great heap lots of thanks to:  Ruby-servantof-eli, Katrina5, Desert-Rose 6,  Andi, Yumiko, sarah,  bunny angel,  cool-chick-rae, Alwaysright1, 

Aro – I want my cookie now!  And I want a big one!

WeebleWobbleChic --  Thanks for the quote  ^.^  I actually just watched that episode not that long ago.

PomegranateQueen – you are too kind, really.  Glad that you got involved in my story.  You don't know how much I appreciate hearing you say that!  Hope you keep reading and enjoying!

Tainz -- Yeah, these baddies ain't cool.  Or maybe they are just really cool.  What happened to Jean will be explained better in an upcoming chapter.

Sabby13 – Glad you liked the Marauders.  They've always been a favorite of mine, even if they never seem to live up to their potential.  Pyro is another of my favorites, and I love writing him all crazy.  (And from watching Cajun Spice this morning, I am glad to see I wasn't far off base)

Ishandahalf --  Yeah, I love Kitty/Piotr fluff.  It's so much fun to write too.  Of course, I don't love it as much as I love Rogue/Remy fluff.  Only hope I get to write that sometime in the future.  Provided those two place nice with each other.

Makura Koneko – Don't worry, plenty more of the Kitty/Piotrness to come in the future.  At least, I hope so.   ^.^  They seem to get along terribly well, don't they?

FreakRogue --  you wanna be my friend?  Are you SURE about that?

Lady Vixen – There is nothing I enjoy more than a review from you!  You know that, don't you?  You write really nice critiques of my chapters, for which I am really grateful for.

Love it?  Hate it?  Review it and let me know.


	11. Crazy Brits

**_A/N:_**_  And the action picks back up again.  At least, I hope it does.  Wasn't going to go into where Logan and Rogue went, but you people requested it.  Thus, you have it.  This was originally supposed to be longer, but my Remy muse decided to go on hiatus.  I apologize for the delay._

Oh look, another new character.  One of my absolute Marvel favorites, by the way.  Kudos to you if you guess whom it is before the official introduction.  You get a cookie, or something cool.

Okay, so it's been established.  Everyone wants more Rogue/Remy AND you want more Pyro too, right?  Any other requests?  I am but your humble servant and very easy to bribe.

**Our Story this far:  **Rogue was almost kidnapped, but rescued by a knight in shining armor  (sorta).  Okay, so maybe just a Cajun thief.  What does he do?  Take her home to meet the Acolytes.  The X-Men show up and aren't too happy about that.  Rogue leaves with them but not before Gambit flirts with her.

There is more flirting somewhere along the way as Gambit asks Rogue out.  Meanwhile, part of the team goes on a recruiting mission, which goes horribly wrong as they run into a nasty bunch called the Marauders.  During the fight, Jean suffers from telepathic attack, which also harms the professor who was linked to her mind at the time, sending them both into a coma.

As the entire mansion is in shock, Logan and Rogue leave for a bit, in order to clear their heads.  But what is Logan up to, anyway?

--------------------

11/?

Had A Bad Day Again

ChaosCat

-------------------

**Pete Wisdom**:  "_I'm still sore from that bum landing.  And I crushed my cigarettes when I landed.  I am holding a grudge."_

---Excalibur #98---

------------------

             The storm had all but vanished as night approached, leaving the sky in an array of russet tones tinged with orange. The sight was soothing to a certain degree.  It did wonders for Ororo's nerves.  She knelt next to one of her plants, her slim mocha fingers reaching out to caress one vibrant leaf.  To the former Goddess Incarnate, her plants were like children, each needing to be carefully nurtured and taken care of.  She only wished the students at the Institute were as easy to care for as her plants.  And as less demanding.

            Allowing herself a wry smile, Ororo rose from the floor, her every movement filled with grace.  The smile soon left as other, more depressing matters came to the front of her thoughts.  The Professor could be dying.  Hank hadn't been able to do anything for him.  He hadn't even been able to determine what was wrong with either of their fallen teammates.  McCoy wasn't to blame, of course.  The man was only a high school biology teacher, even if he was a qualified physician.  He had done all her could.  That was all that could be asked of him.  It didn't make things easier, however.

            None of the children had left the mansion since the others had returned.  She and Hank had thought it best that they all remain here.  None of them had wanted to attend school and she wouldn't be the one to force them.  Not after the recent events.

            The sudden revving of an engine caught her attention.  The African Goddess turned sharply, frown on her features.  She went to one of the large bay windows, peering through the afternoon drizzle.  Ororo arrived there just in time to see the black motorcycle streaking through the front gates, carrying its two passengers away.  

The only one with a motorcycle at the Institute was Logan.  The figure driving the bike wasn't wearing a helmet either, she noted, only a cowboy hat.  She wasn't really surprised.  That man never followed the rules.  She knew Logan couldn't bear to be cooped up for very long.  She had hoped he would have stayed a little longer though.

Who was with him?  One of the students, perhaps?  

It was Rogue, more than likely.  The two of them had grown closer since she had that unfortunate incident with her powers.  Logan knew what the girl was going through, having lost his own memories of the past before the adamantium experiments.  Logan and Rogue were more like that either of them wanted to realize.  They also enjoyed spending time together more than they wanted to admit.  Ororo thought it was good for them both: the Institute's resident loners spending time together.  Especially now, neither of them really had anyone to talk to.

As the bike's taillights disappeared from view, a knock sounded at her door.  Ororo turned just Kitty Pryde phased her head and shoulders through the door.  Her hair was trousled and her eyes were puffy and red.  It was a sure sign the usually perky girl had been crying again.

"Ororo?"  The brunette queried hesitantly.

"Yes child?"  Her voice was gentle when she answered.

"Umm, there's a phone call."  Kitty paused, sounding perplexed.  "It's from Scotland."

-----------

            Having the cigar helped his mood immensely.  Xavier didn't like Logan smoking around the Institute.  He said it was setting a poor example for the kids.  At the moment, Logan didn't quite care about the example he was setting.  He glanced over at Rogue, who was perched in the chair across from him.  He'd already set a bad enough example was it was.

            Bayville had exactly two bars that Logan found suitable, both were in less than respectable parts of the city.  With Rogue with him, he couldn't go to the seedier of the two.  Some jerk might try something with her then Logan would be forced to kill him.  Ororo wouldn't be happy about that.  He'd promised the silvery haired woman he'd at least try not to put too many more people in the hospital.  Storm wasn't too keen on what she referred to as "needless violence."  He didn't think it was needless personally.  Some people deserved to get their ass handed to them.

            This place served food as well as beer.  The food was all right.  The booze was better.  The short-skirted waitress came towards them, sashaying up to their table and flashing a million-watt smile.

            "What can I get for you?"

            Logan saw Rogue open her mouth to speak and shot her a sharp look before answering for the both of them

            "Soda for her.  Bring me a pint of Guinness, will ya darlin'?"

            "Sure thing."

            As the skirt sashayed off once more, Logan looked over at the girl.  She was practically glowering at him.  Hell, the girl was scary when she glared.  She didn't intimidate him.  In fact, if he were being honest with himself, he was proud of the girl. The kid was tough.

            "Ah can order for myself, ya know."

             "Yer too young, Stripes."

            She snorted, flipping her white bangs from her face.  He didn't know what had possessed him to allow her to tag along.  The kid shouldn't be here.  Ororo would have his hide if she found out.  Logan didn't think Rogue would tell her but you never knew.  He knew that he couldn't have just left her sitting there; looking like the world had ended and no one had bothered to tell her.  He was getting soft in his old age, wasn't he?

She had finished scowling at him and was now looking over the place curiously.  Kid had probably never been in a bar before.  Well, consider this an important part of her education.

He tracked the movement of the patrons at the bar, each with their own scent distinguishable over the stench of cigarettes, sweat, and other unpleasant odors.  Oddly enough, Logan felt more at ease in a place like this than a any other upscale joints the town housed.  Sure, it was filled with all sorts of scummy bastards but it was inconspicuous as well.

The waitress returned with their drinks.  Logan tipped her and she scurried off, promising to return later to see if they needed anything. They sat in comfortable silence for a while.  Neither of them were big talkers.

"So," Rogue began hesitantly, playing with her straw.  "What are we doing here anyway?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

He gave her the "Don't-Be-So-Nosey" look.  In return, she frowned at him, sighed heavily, and then leaned back in her chair.

"Fine.  Don't tell me," she grumbled.  "Ah probably don't wanna know anyway."

With that short exchange, the two of them lapsed back into silence.  Logan continued enjoying his beer and Rogue played with the ice in her soda.  He watched her for a time.  Her brow was furrowed in concentration not required for drinking a soda.  Whatever she was thinking about, it probably wasn't pleasant.  

Logan was not the sort of guy to play counselor but it was getting to the point where he had to say something.  He was considering possible comments when a certain scent in the air gave him pause.

He turned at the door to the bar opened, admitting a very familiar figure. 

----------------

            Rogue had a lot on her mind.  In fact, she always had a lot on her mind, considering all the voices usually running around in there.  Thankfully, the Professor had helped her lock them away after her powers had gone berserk and she'd almost killed half the team.  It was much quieter in her brain now.  Occasionally, she'd get a whisper from one of the psyches but Rogue had grown quite used to ignoring them for the most part.  However there were a few occasions when Kitty had caught her talking to herself.  That had been embarrassing.

            As Logan turned towards the door, Rogue noticed the sudden tense manner of the stocky man that had been absent moments before.  Her gaze traveled along his line of sight.  A new patron had just entered the bar.  Or rather, two of them had.  Both were dressed rather prominently in black, which wasn't surprising.  The first of the men caught her attention.  The gray haired individual might not have been quite as striking if he didn't have the eye patch or the definitely scowl on his features.  She'd never seen the man before but she knew his name.  Everyone at the Institute knew who he was.

            Nick Fury.

            Fury came strode towards their table purposefully and Rogue tensed.  Her curiosity was fully roused now.  She glanced over at Logan, who didn't seem surprised to see his old commander in the slightest.  Is this why Logan had gone out?  To meet with S.H.I.E.L.D?

            "Hello Logan," Fury greeted them amiably.  "Hello, Rogue."

            She blinked.  Since when did he know her name?  Of course, he was a government agent.  It was no surprise but she didn't have to like it.  She frowned at him in response.  He only smiled thinly and took a seat at their table.  

The man with him did the same, lighting a cigarette as he settled himself into the chair.  He was young, probably in his mid-twenties.  Beneath the swanky black trench coat, she noted that he was wearing s black suit..  Rogue eyed him curiously while pretending she didn't care who he was or what was going on.  For his part, he only gave her a quirk of the brow.

            "I wasn't expecting you to bring company, Logan."

            "Same goes for you, Patch." Logan rumbled a greeting.  He shot a dark look at the man's companion.  In response, Rogue noted the man rolled his eyes and took a drag from his cigarette.

            "Tonight's just full of surprises then."  Fury answered, making himself comfortable.  "How's the food here?"

            "Could be worse," Logan replied.  

"Hmmm."

"Stick with the booze if I were you."

            "Take your word on that."

"Oh for Crickety's sake, will you lot get on with it?"  The cigarette smoking man muttered.  Rogue had never heard a more British accent.  The waitress took that moment to come by.  "I'll take a Scotch, luv."

            Logan just growled at the forwardness of the Brit.  Fury said nothing, only looked at the younger man disapprovingly.  They were silent for a moment as the sashaying waitress brought over the scotch and Fury's drink.

            "Wot now?"  The Brit looked at the two of them.

            "Fury, I ain't got time to play around."  Logan remarked, chewing gruffly on the end of his cigar.  "You said this was important."

            "This coming from a man who nances about in spandex and names himself after a badger."

            Rogue watched Logan's grip tighten around the beer mug.  That was never a good sign.  However, the big man was clearly going to great lengths to restrain himself.  Had anyone else said that, they probably would have gotten a throat full of adamantium. 

            "That's quite enough," Col. Fury reprimanded the man sternly before looking back at Logan.  "It is important, Logan.  I'd like you to meet Agent Wisdom.  He's from S.T.R.I.K.E."

            Logan raised a brow, looking over at Wisdom who saluted him with his glass.

            "Heard of ya.  Didn't you used to work for Black Air?"

            Wisdom grimaced, taking a gulp of Scotch.

            "Don't remind me."

Rogue was officially confused.  What the hell was everyone talking about?  Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Logan leaned over, beer in hand, to explain at least part of it.

"S.T.R.I.K.E's the British version of S.H.I.E.L.D.  More government meddling with shit.  Apparently, Patch's decided he's found something worth wasting my time.  I doubt it."

"Oh."  She nodded.  More secret government agencies.  Perfect.

"What do you want, Fury?"  Logan cut straight to the point.

            To Rogue's surprise, it was Wisdom that answered, snubbing his cigarette in the ashtray as he spoke.

            "Six months ago, one of our agents disappeared without a trace.  Apartment was stripped.  No word to her family.  No leads.  It was as if she disappeared from the face of the Earth."  Wisdom prattled on.  "She's not the sort of girl who does that sort of thing.  Especially without contacting her brother first.  Of course, that tipped off all the right alarm bells at HQ.  We-"

"What's this girl to ya, anyway?"

"She was my partner."  Wisdom replied coolly before going on. "Tried all the usual lines of information.  Not a bloody thing showed up on 'er.  Beginning to think it was hopeless.  Well, three weeks ago one our sources spotted someone matching her description upstate-"

            "Listen Bub, it's a sad story and all, but I don't see what this has got to do with me," Logan took another swig of beer, reaching for his hat.

            "Because Psylocke is a mutant, Logan," Fury said quietly.  Had she not been sitting close to him, Rogue probably wouldn't have even heard the word 'mutant.' She understood his need for discretion.  They weren't thought of so highly in these parts.  "And she's not the first to have mysteriously disappeared over the last year.

            "We've got reports of at least four other known mutants.  And who knows how many missing persons could have been an unknown mutant as well?"

            "So?"

            "Is he always this congenial?"  Wisdom looked at Rogue questioningly, lighting up another cigarette

            The girl couldn't help but smile just slightly.

            "Always," she drawled.

            "Keep your eyes open, Wolverine.  This many mutant disappearances in such a short time span?  This is serious business," Fury admonished, causing Logan to snort at him.  "Xavier's might not always be as safe as you think.  This is the file on our missing girl."

            The S.H.I.E.L.D agent pulled a thick manila envelope from the interior of his coat and slid it across the table to Logan.  The Canadian eyed it for a moment before nodding.  He didn't open it, which made Rogue even more curious about the contents of the folder.

            "Alright, I'll see what I can do."

            "Was that so bloody hard?"  Wisdom muttered.

            Logan and Fury both ignored him.

            "If you discover anything, I'd appreciate it you let me know."

            "Fine." Logan leaned back, still chewing on his cigar.  "Is that it?"

            "Actually, there is another matter that I need to speak with you about," Fury said.  "Privately, if you don't mind."

            "About what?"  Logan looked suspicious.

            "Your furry friend, Creed."

            Logan growled, but still seemed hesitant.

            "I ain't leaving the kid in here by herself."

            Rogue was almost touched by that unexpected burst of protectiveness from Logan.  However, she wasn't a child and was quite able to take care of herself.  As it was, Fury wasn't going to talk while she was in there.  Knowing Logan, he wanted any information regarding Sabretooth he could get.

            "It's fine, Logan."  Rogue stood.  "Ah needed some fresh air anyway."

            Logan looked torn.

            "Ah'll be fine,"  she repeated, hands on her hips.

            "Watch yourself, Stripes," Logan warned.  "Stay out of trouble."

            "Who me?"

            Fury gave Wisdom a meaningful look.  The Brit frowned at him surly, finishing off his drink in a fluid motion before slamming the glass back down on the table.

            "Fine!"  He grumbled irritably.  "I'll go with 'er.  I know when I'm not wanted."

            "Ah don't need a babysitter," Rogue snapped, turning toward the door.

            "Good, because I wasn't planning on babysitting," Wisdom said to her back, shoving his hands in his pockets as he made for the door as well, mumbling something about leaving the two "grown-ups" to their conversation.

------------------

            They stood against the side of the building, each pretending to ignore the other.  It would have been a fairly simple task if only Wisdom didn't smoke. As the nicotine haze wafted in the air, Rogue wrinkled her nose, waving the smoke away from her face.  Noticing her glare, the Brit just shrugged and took another drag on the cigarette.

            "Gawd!  Is it a rule that all men wearing trench coats have to smoke and generally be annoyingly mysterious and brooding?"

            "Pardon?"  Wisdom raised a brow at her.

            "Nevahmind."

            There was another moment of silence with each of them staring into the night.

            "Name's Pete, by the way," The Brit introduced himself again.  "Wisdom.  Pete Wisdom."

            "Rogue."  She didn't comment on the James Bond reference.  He did have the accent after all.

            "Just Rogue?"

            The southern girl just looked at him, her un-amused expression blatant.  He grimaced back at her.

            "Must be a superhero thing."

            "Excuse me?"  Rogue frowned.

            "You're the one that wears spandex," Pete took a drag on his cigarette.  "I shudder to think."

            "It ain't spandex."

            "Now you're quibbling."

            "Whatever."

            Silence once again.

            "Do you have to smoke?"

            "Yes, actually," he responded.  "I'm on a diet."

            "Excuse me?"

            "I'm on a diet."

            "Of what?"

            "Cigarettes and scotch."  He took another drag on the cigarette, pausing.  At her incredulous look, he attempted to justify himself.  "It's a very strict diet."

            Before Rogue could properly respond to that, there was a rather large explosion erupting from a few blocks of them.  Thus shattering their civil conversation . . .

------------------

_Sorry for the cliff-hangerish ending folks.  Usually try to avoid them, but in this case, it couldn't be helped.  This chapter was not supposed to end here.  Next chapter, we'll see more Gambit, and more Pete Wisdom, if you'd like to see more of him.  If not, well, I won't write more of him.  ^.^  Let me know._

------------------

I love my reviewers!  You guys rock!

**Starlight12 --**  I promise you, there will be more Pyro.  And somewhere in the near future at that.  I like Kitty/Piotr as well.  They are just adorable together.  This is my favorite line for any review, EVER! -à "I want to have Gambit's spicy Cajun children."  Don't we all, darling, don't we all?

**Althaea --** Thanks for your review!  It's greatly appreciated!  Don't worry, I am continuing.  It just takes me a while sometimes.

**Rogue4787 –** I like to write Rogue and Remy fighting.  They are so cute when they do that.  And I think the relationship between Rogue and Wolverine is really interesting as well.  Malice is one of Sinister's Marauders, she actually led the team for a while after taking over Polaris's body.  She's sick, twisted, and evil.

**cool-chick-rae –** Sorry my updates are slow.  Taking classes and working two jobs is beginning to catch up with me.  After finals, I should have time to write tons more!

**Weeble Wobble Chic --** You really need to see Cajun Spice.  It's a Romy-lovers dream come true.  Well, mostly anyway.  Thanks for the quote, I will have to work it in somehow!

**no touchies –** I'm glad you like my plot!  I enjoy romance fics occasionally, but I prefer more action-bases stories myself, so that is what I tend to write.  Hopefully, you'll continue enjoying  (and reviewing) my fic!

**sandy bunny --**  You're request for more romance is duly noted.  If all goes to plan, that should happen sometime in the next few chapters.

**evanescence kicks ass -- **Pyro shows up when he wants to, sorry.  I have no control over him.  He's absolutely bonkers, you know.  But as far as I know, he'll be popping in again soon.

**Ishandahalf –** We'll be seeing more of Sinister's laboratory in the future *hint hint*  Remy lives most of his life in denial, if you ask me.  But not nearly so much as Rogue.  Those two are a headache, to be sure.  Mushiness in the future, if I can bear to write it!

**Sabby13 –** Betsy is always having a problem.  Currently in the comics, she's quite dead.  I'd consider that a rather big problem myself.  Yes, my spelling sucks.  I need a beta-reader, that is what it all comes down to.

**Katrina5 --** Hey, I am entirely open to taking bribes.  What are you offering?

_Like it?  Hate it?  Want me to write faster?  Or prefer that I die and never write anything again?  Hey, all you gotta do is review!_


End file.
